


The Battle - Part Three

by ArtemisArcher83



Series: B Series [15]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-03-01 02:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 113,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18791026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisArcher83/pseuds/ArtemisArcher83
Summary: Part 15 of my B-Series. Events come to a head. The Wells-Bering family finally face their destiny and the battle for control of the Warehouse is decided. Reading the first 14 parts to this series is essential!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I think I've dragged my heels long enough; this is as good as it's going to get without me rewriting the whole damn thing! Don't they say that writers are their own worst critics? It's certainly true for me.
> 
> Here is the fifteenth and final (I think) part to this series.
> 
> For those who have followed this series from the beginning - I thank you for sticking with me. I hope this makes the wait worth it. I would not have made it this far without your support. xxx

**For those of you who need a reminder... (I know I did!)...**

** The Bubble **

Myka is pulled into an artefact and finds her ex-lover's dead daughter. After Helena joins her inside the scarab, they manage to send Christina back into the real world. Myka and Helena begin a tentative rekindling of their abandoned relationship.

** The Bump **

Now reunited, Myka, Helena and Christina begin to find their feet as a family. An accident at the Warehouse brings Myka into contact with an artefact. As a consequence, Myka finds herself pregnant by Helena. Myka comes out to her family. Helena proposes to Myka with her grandmother's ring.

** The Bond **

Myka teeters between her old life and her new one, unsure whether adventure or family are her first priority. Christina finds her feet in the modern world while Myka becomes an aunt. Strange happenings in Hollywood cause tension between HG and Myka. Myka struggles to let go of her need to be in control while HG accepts that the Warehouse won't let her go. As they discover that they're expecting twins, HG is forced to leave to investigate the situation in Hollywood.

Christina from the future defeats her mother and other agents, travels to South Dakota and sends Myka and her younger self to London, 1890.

** The Bridge **

HG, in the twenty-first century, struggles to deal with the fact that her family is missing. Her daughter from the future helps, but she continues to poke and push the regents for answers. She discovers some interesting facts about her grandparents and their involvement with the Warehouse.

In 1890, Myka battles with her conscience as she simultaneously tries to resist her fiancee's past self and find a way back to the future. After giving in to part Helena, an incident with her engagement ring leads to a transfer of one of the twins to HG. Myka realises that Christina is her own child.

As the family reunites in the future, questions and cautions arise regarding some of the regents and their loyalties. Future Christina uses the bronzer to travel back to her own time, relatively unharmed, and we glimpse the happy family in the future with all three of their children.

** The Bering Strait **

The family reel from their experiences of time travel and being reunited. Helena recovers her memories of her time with Myka and Christina in the past and finds herself overwhelmed with guilt for her past mistakes. Christina challenges her parents' rules and restrictions, endangering herself and causing even more tension in the house. Abigail steps in to help restore order.

From Helena's memories, concerns are raised about Agent Kipling.

** The Birth **

Now mostly recovered from their forays into the past, the Bering and Wells family settle into their life together and form stronger bonds with their extended family, especially Tracy. All celebrating birthdays, Christina making new friends and Myka mending a broken relationship with her parents.

An investigation into an artefact that made HG invisible, a strange piece of wall-art and a possible spy in the Warehouse raise more questions about the family's ties to the Warehouse. Mrs Fredrick hints at some help from the past. The Warehouse prepares to move and plans are made for the future of Helena and Myka's continued involvement.

Helena is forced to explain more of her past to Christina when the girl learns about her mother's past relationship with her best friend's father. Fredrick Charles arrives and the family deals with the usual ups and downs of life with a new baby. Myka and Helena are given permission to explain their unique situation to any family member that they trust. They move their family to Boulder.

** The Brides – Part One **

After Claudia revives Helena's grandparents from an artefact, amidst preparations for the wedding, Helena and Myka feel a renewed desire to demand answers from the other Warehouse magnates. They discover theirs and their enemies' connection to the curator of Warehouse 1, Alexander the Great. It appears ever more likely that Christina will be the champion to deliver the Warehouse from Alexander's heir.

** The Brides – Part Two **

Since recovering from the reappearance of Mr and Mrs Wells, Myka and Helena get back on track with their wedding preparations and finally tie the knot in England. Returning from their honeymoon in Kent, Helena and Myka announce that HG is expecting.

Myka faces lingering jealousies both in her own heart and from her mother's, while Helena faces ghosts of loved ones passed. After splitting and sharing the burden of Myka's engagement ring, they create a visual link – gold and green tethers that bind them.

Claudia's island headquarters gains trainees and begins to grow. The Warehouse shows signs of sentience as it monitors its pawns from afar, considers its enemy and looks to the future.

** The Bonfire **

An interlude for a normal family Bonfire. Claudia reintroduces Thomas (Christina's friend in Limbo) to the family. Christina and Adelaide take an instant liking to him. HG is not entirely happy with the idea of her little girl growing into a woman.

** Behind Secrets and Sacrifice **

1894

Knowing what lies ahead for Helena, Eleanor and Rupert leave England for America with the intention of never returning. Eleanor plants the rings for Myka to find while Rupert sends a telegram home to convince the family that they're dead. Eleanor struggles with her conscience in light of her granddaughter's future.

Travelling west, Mr and Mrs Wells meet Gloria Wilson and Irene Frederick in Detroit, Michigan. Over the course of a year, Eleanor and Rupert move to Pierre, South Dakota, meet with Thomas Edison, Nikola Tesla, MC Escher, Albert Einstein, Henrietta Swan-Leavitt, and prepare for the arrival of Warehouse 13.

A ward is created for Myka and her family, and Gloria enables Mr and Mrs Wells to enter an artefact that will hold their essence for the future.

On her island headquarters, Claudia reanimates the Victorian regents.

** Conceiving Catherine **

During the first week of their honeymoon, Helena and Myka are given the means to create another life. They (particularly Myka) struggle with the ethics and responsibilities of creating new life when their future is so certain to contain danger. However, in the end, they decide to try.

** Stocking Filler **

A 'normal' Christmas Day at the Wells-Bering house.

** The Battle – Part One **

As the youngest in the family approach puberty, Myka and Helena do their best to guide their children in the right direction. Heracles deals with rogue factions. An artefact in Australia lures Myka and Helena away from home where they’re ambushed by the enemy. Left vulnerable, Fredrick becomes a target for some of Heracles’ misguided followers. An old adversary tries to take revenge on HG by removing Myka’s memories.

** The Battle – Part Two **

HG tries to hold her family together while Myka comes to terms with the direction her life has taken. An agent dies and a traitor is revealed. Using eight-year-old Christina’s bones, Heracles completes a ritual that will bring him one step closer to the Warehouse. HG and Myka seek refuge during a snow storm and find a rekindled flame. The family spends Christmas at the bookshop. Myka gets a surprise visitor in the form of Heracles’ son.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does everyone know where the exits are? Are your trays in the upright position? Are we all strapped in?
> 
> Previous warnings still stand!
> 
> Hold onto your seats.

**Chapter One**

**Four Years Later**

_Blood covered the stone floor beneath her feet – the blood of thousands, the blood of allies and enemies alike. It dripped from the altar behind her landing heavily and joining the flow._

_As she took a pace forward, hoping to find an exit somewhere, the ground abruptly rose under her feet, steps pushing up through the sticky torrent and bringing steel rafters ever closer to her head. Heart pounding in her chest, she willed her feet forward, each movement harder than the last as her boots sank into blood-turned-black._

_Far below now, falling further and further away, several figures appeared and stood, their eyes fixed on her as the gruesome tide rose around them. A terrifying realisation stabbed sharply into the back of her mind; they were going to die and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Knowing the inevitable and accepting it were two different things though and she threw herself forward, slipping and sliding her way down the ever-lengthening staircase._

_Why were they doing nothing to save themselves? Why weren’t they trying to climb up, away from the inky sea that now surrounded them? She opened her mouth to scream at them to move, run, swim, anything, but no sound came._

_A sudden rush of liquid took her feet from beneath her and she flailed down several steps, trying to ignore her urge to vomit as her hands sank and she felt her confidence leave her._

_The faces of the figures appeared closer, their familiar details pulling at her insides harder than the feeling of disgust, pulling at the bonds of family. Her parents, Cat, Freddy and Thomas. She stopped resisting gravity and launched herself off the last dozen steps and landed waist-deep in the ooze, her arms reaching, searching for limbs that didn’t seem to be there._

_“Mum… Ma?”_

_“Save us…”_

_The words sounded from every direction, in a multitude of voices, drilling into her thoughts as a singular, overwhelming plea…_

_Save us._

_“I will.”_

A worried voice and the feel of hands shaking her shoulders snapped Christina out of her nightmare. She sucked in a sudden breath and then another, her shoulders straining with the effort as the world began to swim back into focus. “Tommy?” she asked and reached out instinctively to grab hold of him. “Why have we stopped?” she wondered as she looked out at the open road ahead of them.

“I know we agreed that I wouldn’t wake you – you wanted to see how much you could remember – but… you were crying, babe.” He lifted a hand to her face and brushed her tears away.

Her eyes closed and she leant into her boyfriend’s shoulder. “I… There was blood. So much… blood,” she muttered.

Thomas pulled his girlfriend closer, kissed the top of her head and wished desperately that he could just fix everything for her. “Do you want to call it a day? We haven’t come far, we can still turn back to the shop?”

Christina shook her head. “No. You’ve been planning this break for ages. The dreams aren’t going to leave me any time soon.” She took a deep breath and pulled her feelings back together.

Thomas hesitated but as her face hardened, he knew that her mind was set. “’K, boss.” He smiled, adjusted back into his seat and turned the key in the ignition to bring the car back to life. “Ice Lake Basin, here we come!”

Christina waited until they were back up to speed and heading south-west across Colorado before she reached over to wrap her fingers around her partner’s. In the four years since her parents had moved back in together, she and Thomas had lived semi-permanently at the shop, in the apartment upstairs. One or both of her mothers were there most days, sharing the managerial role that had been left empty by Jason’s forced departure, but other than the odd couple of hours a day, Christina spent her time in research or honing her physical skills.

If she wasn’t hiking in the woods and learning how to survive on little more than her wits and what nature could provide, she and Thomas were working with Claudia to improve their tech knowledge, or working with whoever else was available to discover what exactly fate and Heracles had in store for them. Meghan’s undercover notes had given them a good head start and though the groups she had been observing had disbanded, Myka and Helena had used the dead agent’s work to trace the influence all the way over to Europe and to where they suspected the heir was leading his operations. The close proximity to both the Warehouse and their island headquarters caused a stirring anxiety to run through their family.

After the attack on her brother, Christina found it hard to focus on anything but the safety of her family and no matter how often her parents sat her down and advised her to take her crusade one day at a time, she couldn’t get the idea of failing again out of her head. She would rest when the danger had passed and with her dreams reminding her constantly that the worst was yet to come, she didn’t want to waste another moment on her own desires or ambitions.

Having a boyfriend who was determined that she needed to take care of herself made it impossible to neglect her own needs completely though and he regularly insisted that they take a couple of days from their busy schedules to relax a little and rejuvenate their energies for their next push. So, even with a squirming uncertainty sitting in her stomach, she allowed the diversion and tried her best to enjoy the short periods that they had to themselves.

Always in the back of her mind, she felt the end drawing nearer and saw every sunrise and sunset with eyes that greedily absorbed each bittersweet moment.

* * * * *

Standing in the doorway between kitchen-diner and living room, Steve smiled and shook his head all in one motion as he watched Pete try to talk Jason into yet another eating contest. How his old friend managed to keep his mostly buff figure was a mystery to all of them, but he suspected that Lila had something to do with it – there had been a distinct reduction in the cookies, cakes and doughnuts department – it had to have helped.

It was nice seeing his husband looking relaxed and enjoying himself anyhow. They’d been back on home soil for a year now and while it was difficult for either of them to go about their day to day business without expecting the other shoe to drop, somehow, they’d managed to make it this far, and that was worth celebrating.

Looking around at the people who had happily crammed themselves into his and Jason’s compact apartment, Steve took a moment to appreciate the family that surrounded them. He watched as Myka fussed over Artie and the ex-director beat her back with a permanent frown on his face. He watched the frown turn into a glare as HG added something to her wife’s fussing and laughed. He watched the glare freeze and fizzle away entirely as Dr Calder appeared suddenly behind her husband and landed a kiss on his cheek. Other than more wrinkles and grey hair, they were the same lovable and entertaining bunch of misfits that he’d been lumped with after his first encounter with an artefact – despite the upheavals of the last few years, nothing could make him want to give this life up now.

Four years ago, he hadn’t had the peace of mind to believe in that sentiment and it shamed him when he thought of it. What would he have done without this network of support? Where would his husband be without it? Seeing the friends who’d stayed with them during their time on the island, he thought back to the day that they’d been given the go ahead to leave…

_Jason listened closely to the friends that surrounded him as he closed his fingers around his husband’s and drew strength in with each new breath._

_He still felt concern about using Steve as his crutch after so long spent ‘protecting’ the man he loved. The ex-ATF agent had given him a wide birth immediately after their arrival on the island – a distance that had convinced a traumatised Jason of his lack of worth, and even after Steve had changed his mind and tried to convince him otherwise, he continued to expect a relapse._

_After three years of constant supervision, regular counselling and no hint of odd behaviour, he and Steve had managed to settle again into a somewhat comfortable relationship. Both had a newfound respect for Myka and Helena considering how long the couple had held their family together with such heavy threats hanging over their heads. It had taken Jason almost two years before he could sleep next to his husband the whole night through; his fears of waking to find Steve’s murdered body beside his had kept at bay any peace in sleep._

_With Leena and Abigail both smiling calmingly in their direction, and Steve holding tight to his hand, Jason finally managed to slow his racing heart and looked back down at the plane tickets with less trepidation. “Do you really think I’m ready to move back there?”_

_Ms Cho nodded, her expression serious but full of compassion. These Warehouse couples kept her skills sharp with the amount of time she spent with them, but it was always worth the effort to see her friends finding their feet again. “I think you’re both ready to get back to your lives. You won’t be alone; your new apartment is just across the street from Artie and Vanessa.”_

_“And you’re sure the bracelet will work?” the younger man asked, his face a picture of hope and desperation._

_Though he had not shown any sign of being a sleeper agent while under surveillance, no one wanted to take the chance that something could trigger that hidden persona once he and Steve were back amongst civilians. Following a suggestion from Mrs Fredrick, Claudia had pulled an artefact out of the Warehouse and given it to her bestie’s husband. The simple silver chain had belonged to a nameless spy who had died in the line of duty, his secrets following him to the grave even after hours of torture. Provided their own will was strong, the bracelet gave the wearer an unbreakable ability to resist coercion, temptation or torture._

_They all hoped that Jason would never need the latter, but as for the former, they all felt a peace of mind in knowing that he would be able to fight back should Heracles attempt to use him again._

_“It will work,” Steve reassured him and placed a loving kiss on his cheek. “They’ve taken more than enough time from us already. We’re going to fight them the only way we can while they cower away – by living and being happy in spite of what they’ve done.”_

_Jason sighed and forced a smile. “I suppose we can’t let Myka and HG hog the spotlight forever,” he joked._

_Leena laughed as tears rose to fill her eyes. “That’s the spirit!”_

_Abigail beckoned the younger Mr. Jinks to follow her and led him away for one last chat before he would have to start packing his bags, leaving Leena and Steve behind in a comfortable silence – their thoughts oddly similar as they thought about an absent friend._

_“You’ll look after her, won’t you?” Steve half-whispered, not needing to clarify to whom he was referring._

_“You know I will,” Leena replied softly, her gaze telling him all he needed to know about her sincerity._

_“She’s stubborn – er… than she used to be. It’s the Warehouse,” he grumbled. “Whatever it tells her, it makes her so determined to go off and do… whatever it is she does.”_

_Hearing the frustration in her friend’s voice, the curly-haired woman reached forward and gathered both of his hands in hers. “It wouldn’t ask her to do anything that might risk her life, Steve. They have a bond and Claudia has a thirst to prove herself. It’s my theory that her frantic determination lately is because the Warehouse knows that the end of our battle is close at hand.”_

_“You think so?” he asked with a frown._

_“I think it’s more important than ever that you and Jason have a chance to reconnect, and be close to where you’ll be able to help,” she squeezed his hands and let go before standing up and heading for the door, “like I know you both desperately want to,” she added with an encouraging little smile before leaving him alone with his thoughts._

Things were working out for him and Jason, but Claudia remained conspicuous by her frequent absences and Steve’s heart clenched when he thought about what she could be up to. Her quirky nature was still present if one took the time to seek it out, but more and more these days, the redhead popped in and out to share news or check up on them before she was off again, following some agenda that only she was privy to. It unnerved the ex-ATF agent. He wanted his best friend to live a life free of the Warehouse’s yolk.

* * * * *

Strident footfalls echoed along the corridors of the large house as a lithe young man glided purposefully along. He had lost the last of the rounded features of childhood, his face still handsome but sharper, angular, more like the shrewd mind which lay beneath it. Without apology, Heracles walked in on Cassandra’s mid-morning workout and motioned for her to follow him. “It’s time,” he announced, not breaking his stride to check that she had fallen into line.

The feeling had come upon him as he knelt in his garden, elbow deep in marigolds; a sensation of certainty and urgency – the time had come to complete his millennia long mission. Everything was already in place to make the next move and a tingle of excitement slithered along his spine as he went in search of his second in command.

Together they entered his private wing of the large house and gathered all they needed. The war room was fitted with a large marble table, chairs waiting occupants as they had in his penthouse boardroom. There would be no need to summon his lieutenants today though, and he ignored the empty places as Cassandra began to lay a series of objects before him. No hint of dire need approached his expression, but he felt it inside – a heavy thump of the heart in his chest and anticipation coiling in his veins.

The phantom voice, that had accompanied him since the time of Alexander the Great, whispered caution and patience once more into his thoughts and with practised ease, Heracles pushed away all distractions as he reviewed his plan of action.

“First, to do away with the ward that acts as guardian to the Wells-Bering family,” he reminded the commander as he unwrapped a small, cylindrical object and tipped a small bone onto a cloth.

For many years now, he’d been extremely cautious about which artefacts he appropriated from the Warehouse. Those agents who were not loyal to him would report any absences in the archives and he could not afford to be at the end of any investigation that might take place. For certain objects though, he had chosen to take that risk. One or two artefacts that he had not collected of his own volition had come to him from his thralls and this insignificant looking relic had become one of his most prised acquisitions.

Taken from directly beneath his adversaries’ watchful eyes, the bone held the key that would grant him access to his aunt’s descendants. It was the bone that had given life to Snorri Sturluson’s parchment and initiated the ward that prevented him from approaching Helena Wells, her mate or their children. While he hadn’t dared to attempt to grab the written words themselves, he had found the simplest answer actually lay in the writing implement – a mere application of force would pull the words from the ‘pen’ and erase them from existence. Jason had proved very useful in his proximity to the Wells-Bering family and Heracles regretted the loss of the young man’s services. Not that the ex-agent was aware of his actions in this regard.

Artefacts usually protested being broken or destroyed in any way and Cassandra pulled on a pair of thick-hide gloves and a mask before moving a safe distance from her idol with the bone. The resulting display of fireworks and a piece of bone held in each hand brought a malevolent smile to her face – their patience was finally going to pay off and some of her blood lust would be satisfied.

Unaffected by his general’s quiet enthusiasm, Heracles turned to his next task and unravelled a strip of purple cloth that held a microphone that had once belonged to James Warren Jones – it was time to remobilise his infantry. The cannon-fodder would be the perfect distraction for what he planned to do next.

* * * * *

While the heir to an ancient king made plans half a world away, in a humble tent, nestled in the cleavage between two rocky hills, his adversary slept and dreamed of a figure with his face…

_Lazily, sleepily, Christina’s eyes scanned all the passengers she was sat with on the train. How had she arrived here? She wasn’t sure. As she began to wrack her brain, anxiety settled in her stomach, the churning reminiscent of the rocking carriage on the tracks. Who were these people? Where were they heading and why? She began to stand, thinking that she really needed to find out what was going on, but a voice rang out beside her and halted her advance. As she turned her gaze on the speaker, she met cold, blue eyes and instinctively knew who he was._

_“This is a dream,” she guessed and cautiously reclaimed her seat._

_Heracles’ face nodded and smiled – an expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So it would seem.” His gaze took in their surroundings. “You’ve brought us to an interesting place.”_

_“I brought us here?” Christina wondered aloud._

_“This is your mind so, yes. You are perhaps wondering why I am in your mind?” he asked smugly. At a small nod, he elaborated, “For many years now, I have wished to speak with you. It is only recently that I have discovered the means with which I could make contact.”_

_“By invading my dreams?” the young woman asked, an eyebrow rising with distaste. Knowing that he’d found a way to invade her sleep sent a chill along her spine. She had a feeling that he would enjoy any discomfort she felt and think it a victory though, so she tried to appear nonchalant. “Why do you want to speak to me? There’s nothing I want to say to you other than to warn you that we will not allow you to take control of the Warehouse. Your time will soon be at an end.”_

_Heracles chuckled darkly. “It amuses me that you think as much.” The train began to slow and the people around them shifted, preparing to stand. “It appears that our time together tonight is at an end.” He reached for her hand and before she could flinch away, forced a kiss against her knuckles. “Until next time, my dear.”_

_Standing with the rest of the passengers, he took a step and disappeared into the throng._

Christina’s eyes popped open to find pale light filling the tent. The dream. Heracles… She remembered. A mixture of relief and disgust filled her at this realisation. The pounding of her heart made sense now that she had the images to accompany her night time horrors, but with the memory of her enemy’s presence and knowing that he now had such access to her sleeping world, came all of the anxiety she’d felt in the dream.

She used the early dawn to calm her thoughts and looked for a silver lining in this violation. She had felt in control of herself, so she wouldn’t necessarily reveal secrets that would be detrimental to their side. As unwelcome as it was, any conversations with their enemy had the potential to work just as much in their favour as his. More so, if she could play her cards right.

She wondered whether she should tell anyone and immediately knew that she couldn’t tell her family; they would panic – in their own organised and logical way of course; but she also knew that such big secrets had the potential to tear them apart too. How many times had she become engrossed in a book or television show and wished that the protagonist would share their burden? Secrets which were so integral to the plot that she just knew that disaster was sure to strike. Someone should be in the know, at the very least so that she would have someone to bounce information and ideas off.

Having just about decided that Claudia would be the best person to confide in, Christina felt the figure of her boyfriend stir beside her and felt a smile replace the serious expression with which she’d woken. She turned over to snuggle deeper into strong arms that immediately surrounded her, and tilted her head to kiss sharp angles.

She grimaced. “You’re all prickly,” she complained lightly.

Thomas lifted a hand to his chin and felt the hair growth that had appeared over the weekend. “You always say that on day three.”

“It’s always prickly on day three… and four, and five,” she teased.

“I was thinking of going for the full-on woodsman look. What do you think?”

Christina looked him over, pretending to consider it. “Sure, it’d suit you. Of course, you’d have to make do without me kissing you.”

Ice-blue eyes pulled together with mock sorrow. “You’d let a beard get in the way of love?”

“Of course not! I’d still love you.” She grinned. “I’d just prefer not to get face rash.”

“It gets softer, y’know? And I’d take care of it,” he pleaded, his voice taking on the quality of a begging child as blue-ice sparkled with mischief. “I’d brush it, feed it and take it out for walks. I’d clean up after any little accidents.”

Chuckling, Christina moved impossibly closer and found muscular shoulders with the hands she’d wrapped around her boyfriend’s back. “Fine, but it’s your responsibility,” she teased back, happy for the silly distraction from her thoughts.

The feel of their bodies lying together stayed with Christina well into their journey home. The sense of peace reminded her of her need for these little trips; she always returned to the grind with an extra lightness to her step and a renewed focus for her work.

Heracles had proved difficult to find in his current location, but after four years of research, she’d managed to discover a faint trail of his movements throughout history. With help from her mothers, Thomas and the occasional appearance of Artie or Claudia, she could now follow his journey from Mesopotamia through Asia and Europe, across the globe and most recently, back to his home soil. The general consensus was that the heir was somewhere in central Europe again – Mathild had provided a rough location of Ansgar’s nursery in the black forest – but no one wanted to pin all of their efforts on an assumption.

Frustrating as the wait was, they’d learned to let some things unfold in their own time. The Warehouse had an agenda too and they would know when it needed them.

* * * * *

**Boulder, Colorado**

Green eyes blinked open and immediately crinkled into a smile as they landed on warm brown. Myka stretched her toes before shuffling closer and settled her body flush along Helena’s, pressing her nose and lips against a warm throat. “Mmm, morning,” she hummed sleepily.

HG shifted, making room for her wife to explore further and found the hem of a night-shirt with her fingers. “Good morning, darling,” she breathed, satisfied by another day that began with waking up next to the woman she loved.

At the feel of fingers tracing her spine, Myka’s breath hitched and she dragged her teeth lightly over pale skin. A moan vibrated against her ear, sending fireworks along her nerves and pulling at her lower regions. In one slow but fluid move, she rolled them over, settled between her wife’s legs and found Helena’s lips with her own.

In the subsequent years since they’d resumed their relationship, Myka had learned to trust her own instincts again and gave herself to whatever power drew her so unerringly into Helena’s arms. The night that she’d abandoned the inventor after their date had taught her that she was more than capable of making her own stupid decisions. She’d learned that it was dangerous to listen to her fears too closely. Following that night, any date that ended in bed meant them waking up together the next morning, and by the end of that month, she’d packed up her few belongings from the shop and moved back to Boulder permanently.

After a rollercoaster first year with the usual parental dramas, and dividing their attentions between the shop and the Warehouse, they’d eventually managed to find common ground and a routine that worked for them. For a long time, Helena struggled to adjust to the new Myka. If she thought that she could predict her wife’s behaviour based on years gone by, she was wrong. It had caused tensions to erupt at seemingly random times and brought them to the brink of madness before Eleanor put her foot down and insisted that they all sit down and actually talk to each other.

Being scolded by a grandparent at their age was embarrassing enough for the occasion to have quite the impact on both the inventor and her lover. Following those discussions, they’d taken a breath and got back on the proverbial horse. It seemed less and less likely as the weeks, months and years passed that Myka was going to suddenly recover that which she’d lost but with time, that reality also became less painful as they grew more comfortable with each other and their life together.

Most days began with a few soft, lingering kisses and murmured words of greeting before they reluctantly left their sanctuary and dressed for the day. Occasionally, the day began with some heavy petting or a shared shower that might escalate into strangled gasps and a muffled climax. Perhaps it was the promise of a warm day ahead, or the gay tweeting from the birds outside, but more likely, it was the absence of children in the house that spurred them on now.

Helena’s tongue encouraged a steady waltz from Myka’s and hands traversed an equally leisurely path over ribs before finding the shape of her wife’s breasts. She swallowed Myka’s moan and squeezed just a bit harder, touching her instinctively. When Myka’s breathing became shallower and her moans deeper, Helena rolled them over and began a downward journey towards a tender swell and took a fabric-covered nipple gently between her teeth. At the feel of fingers in her hair, urging her on, she circled the protrusion with the tip of her tongue and grinned to herself as narrow hips bucked up against her own.

Beyond Helena’s melancholy over the loss of her wife’s memory, the inventor had decided that there was a silver lining. They had never quite experienced what Claudia so charmingly referred to as ‘lesbian bed death’ but, before the memory loss, making love had gradually given way to more snuggling than sex; long conversations about their respective days, their children’s antics, upcoming events, and other vicissitudes all became their natural go-to at bed time. Since Myka’s memory loss and their renewed romance though, things had changed.

An insistent tugging brought the inventor’s attention to hands at the hem of her night-shirt and she sat back to pull it up and over her head. Myka followed her movement, plastering herself to Helena’s naked torso and capturing an eager mouth as her hands gripped and squeezed the fleshy curves of her behind.

Following their renewed romance, this physical need had reawakened and accompanied them to bed on many nights. Myka’s mind was that of a much younger woman, one in the prime of her sexual desires, and HG was more than willing to accommodate her wife. She didn’t regret the routine they’d had – it had been a natural and loving progression – but there was something to be said for succumbing to the carnal pull that more often gripped them now.

In the future, they would return to that more sedate existence and Helena welcomed it, but for now she saw nothing wrong with enjoying her wife’s company in a way that pushed them to the edge of their physical endurance. When their ageing bodies experienced more aches and exhaustion than they had had in their youth, she savoured them and endured with the satisfaction of knowing that their love was once again whole.

Once they’d exhausted their energies in the bedroom, the couple washed, dressed and found their way to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Christina was away for a few days, Catherine had gone camping with Andi’s family, and Fredrick was studying with his cousin, Daniel for his finals, leaving the parents to their own devices. With the house almost empty, Myka suggested that they have a day out – just for the two of them.

After a hilly walk and a picnic, a trip to the museum and a quick dinner at their favourite haunt, the couple made their way to the observatory, a further relic of the Victorian era that brought a particular lightness to HG’s step.

As they entered, Helena’s first urge was to study the architecture and engineering of the giant telescope. She was reminded of the one she’d followed a fellow agent to in London and from where Joshua’s Trumpet had been launched. Excitement shifted into annoyance at the memory of the man’s arrogance, the melancholy she still felt for Wolly and the eventual tragedy that the artefact had brought to a young man in Ohio more than half a century later. Fingers pushed between her own, their grip offering comfort and she looked up to find soft, understanding green looking back at her. Immediately, warmth tingled along her spine and chased away her dark thoughts. She smiled and stole a quick kiss from Myka, choosing to focus her energies on the present and the positive feedback she felt through their reawakening bond.

Helena quickly became like a kid in a sweetshop as their tour guide explained the history of their operation, notable projects they’d worked on and their current focus. She asked so many questions and showed such an aptitude for the astronomer’s topics that Myka eventually found herself hanging back and simply taking pleasure in her wife’s enthusiasm.

She admired HG’s resilience. The things she’d endured would have crippled a lesser person and over the years, the more Myka learned about Helena’s history, the more she understood her choices and the more in awe she found herself. Love had either blinded her to the pain and destruction left in the inventor’s wake, or else had offered her a unique perspective from which to understand the pitfalls that might so easily trouble a mind. Helena was just as much a victim of her own mistakes as Myka was and only the strongest personality could struggle out of that darkness and turn their life so completely around.

Helena had been true to her word and put most of her energy into helping her family recover in the aftermath of the attacks on Myka and Freddy. Myka had been unconsciously vigilant during the first year back at home in Boulder, but without even knowing it, her underlying suspicions had faded away, leaving a growing seed of trust behind in their place.

Whenever Abigail had time to visit and stayed for a few days, they ended up having an informal counselling session – a bottle of wine open between them while they chatted about life and how various factors were affecting their happy little bubble. Not that they weren’t learning how to communicate as a couple but somehow the dedicated time brought more thoughts to the surface and no one wanted to waste the opportunity to air the shadows that usually caused distress.

Seeing the joy of discovery on HG’s face was more than entertaining enough for Myka but she did manage to drag her gaze away long enough to study some impressive images of distant galaxies and nebulae. By the time Helena had exhausted her bank of questions and joined Myka with the scientists’ artwork, the younger regent had chosen several prints that she wanted to purchase for their home and as gifts for others. HG looked over her wife’s shoulder, one hand on the small of the brunette’s back and leant close to her ear.

“Having fun, darling?” she asked.

Myka craned her head back and smiled up at her partner. “I didn’t think I would find astronomy so fascinating.”

“Nor I,” the inventor replied as they were left alone to prepare themselves to leave. “I spent many hours with James Eddington in the observatory in London while we built my rocket, but I’m almost ashamed to admit that I was uninterested in phenomena that I couldn’t claim as my own creation. I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you, love. I quite lost track of time while discussing quarks and dark matter.”

“I’ve long accepted that science is your mistress, Helena,” the younger regent teased. “It makes you happy – that’s fine by me.”

Later, they parked up at home but didn’t immediately go inside, deciding instead to make the most of the clear evening and wind down with a wander through the park. Hand in hand, Helena and Myka strolled along paths that had greeted theirs and their children’s footsteps for years. Neither spoke for a while, both contented while enjoying the peaceful night and the pleasant company.

As they reached the jungle gym and began on the path that led home, Helena was hit by the reality of the years of happiness in their wake. “It seems not five minutes ago that we were walking through snow and you were expecting. Twins – though we knew it not at the time. Pete was pulling Christina along on the sled while we argued.”

Myka wrapped her arm tighter around her wife’s. “When was this?”

“Christmas day, shortly before you and Christina disappeared on your adventure into the past,” the inventor elaborated.

A small smile tugged at the younger regent’s mouth. Though she couldn’t remember the events directly, she’d heard the stories and felt HG’s nostalgia whenever they spoke of it. “The day you proposed?”

“Yes,” Helena answered, her smile widening. “You returned Norie’s rings to me and as I held them, it was as if I could feel their desire to be back with you and I knew just how to make that happen. At that point, I thought that marriage was something we wouldn’t talk about for years, but when presented with such an opportune moment, I could hardly contain myself.”

A hand reached absentmindedly to play with the rings on a slender finger as Myka considered the decision Helena had made. “Do you think you were coerced into marrying me by an artefact?” she half joked.

HG slowed to a halt and gently pulled her companion around to face her. Recently, she’d taken more notice of the spreading grey that spiralled through her wife’s wild hair and marvelled at the unexpected beauty there. While she’d never considered the possibility that she might lose the attraction she felt for the woman she loved, neither had she thought that she would be quite so drawn to the soft, dignified strength that radiated from Myka as she continued to age. How was it possible that she could still feel such longing after so many years together?

“There was minimal coercion needed, love. I think perhaps I merely needed a prod to be brave and to give up my preconceived notions surrounding the institute of marriage.” She dropped her hands to Myka’s waist and leant in to steal a kiss that lingered. “I swore against it for so long, and was still subconsciously convinced that you could do better than me as a prospective spouse. But as I held those rings, all of my doubts and misgivings fled. I knew that I would do anything to make you happy and that there was no one else with whom I could spend my life.”

“I love you,” Myka said as she snaked her arms around the inventor’s neck and brushed their noses together. “I don’t care what force brought us together or what tries to tear us apart, I know we’ll always be perfect for each other. No matter how many times I forget, you’ll find a way to bring me home. And if _you_ ever forget, I won’t stop until you’re back by my side.”

“Promise?” Helena whispered as tears sprang to her eyes.

“Promise,” Myka replied and stole another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very welcome. My muse needs sustenance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I just realised that I forgot to press 'post' on chapter one last week. It's been sitting in my drafts! Sorry.
> 
> So here's chapter two along with chapter one. Enjoy!

** Chapter Two **

Helena woke the following morning to find the opposite side of the bed empty. She stretched and blinked for a moment, trying to place the odd mixture of bliss and melancholy in the back of her mind before realising that the feeling didn’t originate in her own body. Adrenaline rushed through her and she sat up quickly. _Myka?_ she thought automatically and closed her eyes to focus on the sensation. The faint connection that she’d felt building steadily over the past four years was suddenly clear and open.

She could feel her wife’s surprise as they became more aware of each other and before she could fully react, the sound came to her ears of footsteps climbing rapidly up the stairs. The bedroom door flew open and HG laughed as her wife’s pyjama-clad figure landed on the bed and tackled her back into the mattress. Smiling lips crashed against her own and they indulged for several minutes.

When Myka finally released her, Helena gazed into glassy green and felt relief fill her. “I feel you,” she whispered huskily.

“It’s incredible,” the younger regent replied as she sat back on her haunches. “You said it was intense, but… I don’t know what I expected. Reading your thoughts maybe? This is… I just feel you everywhere!”

“We will have to work harder at controlling that, but for now I’m just so happy to have you back.” As she voiced her thoughts, HG’s eyes brimmed with accompanying tears and she pulled her wife down for another kiss as a way to release all that she was feeling.

“Mmm,” Myka hummed against her wife’s lips. “Wish that my memories had returned too,” she confessed quietly as they parted.

Helena nodded solemnly. “Eventually, we will tear Heracles’ operation down. When that day comes, I will find the artefact he used to take your memories and neutralise it. One way or another, I will return to you that which was taken.”

The rest of the morning passed by in lazy embraces and softly spoken words. While Myka felt all of the inventor’s joy and contentment at their reawakened bond, she also felt her own wonder and belated understanding – an understanding for how her partner must have felt after their trip to Australia, and a renewed sense of pride in how Helena had handled that situation.

The peace of the weekend was broken first by the return of their son, who breezed passed with a quick hello and headed straight for the fridge, and then the sound of a car pulling up and voices filling the front entrance. With little more than a glance and an exchange of nods, Myka left Helena to tidy up the debris of plates and cups from their morning and opened the front door to welcome a tired looking fifteen-year-old home from her camping trip.

There was something about Catherine’s fixed smile of gratitude that rang alarm bells in Myka’s mind as the teen waved goodbye to her friend and thanked Andi’s parents for taking care of her.

“Did you have a nice time?” the regent asked as she relieved her daughter of a bag and tried to read the girl’s thoughts.

Cat shrugged, closing the door as she tried to avoid her mother’s searching gaze. “Tents and the campfires are always cool,” she muttered. “I’m beat though – I’m gonna have a nap.”

Before the girl could run off, Myka reached for her arm and tugged her back. “Sweetheart, is everything ok?”

Hazel eyes looked everywhere but at her mother. “It’s cool,” she insisted and shrugged again. “Just tired.”

“Alright,” the older woman replied and reluctantly let go.

Myka watched with worry as Catherine mounted the top of the stairs and disappeared from sight. She sighed. Childish tantrums were tough, but teenage angst tugged at her own memories of feeling isolated, lost and unloved. She remembered the raucous girl she’d met four years earlier and hoped that she could help her daughter find that freedom of expression again – someday. For now, she decided to give the teen a couple of hours to catch up on some sleep, make something she would enjoy for dinner and then see if she could gently pry some information out of her before the night was over.

Several hours later and Myka found herself having no luck with her plan. Even with Helena’s help, Catherine refused to leave her room, insisting that she felt sick and therefore not hungry, and pleaded to be allowed to sleep. Only the teen’s feline shadow had been allowed entry and after ten o’clock, both parents eventually gave up and decided to pick up their efforts again in the morning.

Fredrick joined them in the living room, spreading his now man-sized frame across the three-seat couch and gulping at his mug of tea the moment it was placed in front of him. “Oww!” he hissed and dragged in a mouthful of cool air.

Helena shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Blow on it! Honestly. It never ceases to amaze me that even the most intelligent of people can still behave like pre-historic man.”

Freddy stuck his burnt tongue out at his mother. “I’ve been studying for days. I’m all out of brain power and I’m thirsty.”

“We certainly admire your dedication, love,” Helena commented from her place beside her wife. The couple sat on the love seat, curling naturally into each other and barely having to share a glance to do so. “But take care not to exhaust yourself.”

“Yeah, Freddy; we don’t want you to burn out,” Myka added with a smile.

For an hour they chatted about everything and anything before deciding to call it a day and bidding one another goodnight. Myka fell asleep in her wife’s arms, letting her worries fade temporarily until, a few hours later, two familiar sounds broke into her subconscious and pulled her from sleep. It wasn’t the exuberant bird song that forced her to sit up and reach for her wife, but rather the feeling of disquiet in her stomach and the sound of the television from the living room.

Helena stirred and as the full force of Myka’s alertness hit her, she found herself abruptly wide awake. “Myka?”

“Claudia’s downstairs,” the brunette responded as she placed the other sound that had woken her. She slipped from the bed with the inventor hot on her heels and made her way to the living room.

They found the caretaker stood close to the TV, remote in hand and her thumb channel-hopping between news programmes. On hearing the sound of feet approaching, she moved back to give the regents space to join her and see what had brought her so early to the house.

Every news caster had the same stone-faced expression as they sat beside a picture-in-picture scene that scrolled through horrific images. From locations around the world, bodies littered the ground in front of a raised platform, the deceased figures laid out in a radiating spiral – some stretching out for several metres in larger areas.

“Is this…?” Myka began, her thoughts tumbling as a lump rose in her throat.

Claudia nodded wordlessly and for a minute or two the trio just stood and watched the chaos as it unfolded. Eventually the redhead found her voice, “It began in the middle of the night and just hit the headlines in the last couple of hours.”

“It’s started,” HG declared, knowing that her companions were thinking the same thing.

The battle had finally begun in earnest.

* * * * *

Dusty trainer-toes dug into the dirt for the hundredth time as Cat fell from her upward swing and kicked at the ground in frustration. Jake followed suit, his eyes shut tight through the cloud that rose up from the dry earth beneath them. Neither teen was happy that they’d been left at home with a babysitter instead of being allowed to listen in on the meeting taking place just down the road, but the youngest Wells-Bering appeared particularly irate as she took her feelings out on the landscape.

All Cat could think was that it wasn’t fair. Why wasn’t she allowed to help her family to stay safe? She was almost an adult, trained in hand to hand combat, skilled with building traps, and though she didn’t really enjoy reading, she was by no means unintelligent. So, why were they _still_ treating her like a kid?

After another aggressive kick from his friend, Jake finally gave up on waiting out this grouchy mood and jumped off his swing. He was the only one stupid enough to stick so close to his friend when she acted out like this and he watched ruefully as a ball of fluffy, black fur sat on a fence and cleaned its face happily. With a little distance between them, he shook himself like a wet dog and brushed the dust and grit out of his hair. Deciding to keep her company from a distance, he took a seat atop the picnic bench and watched her rise and fall in a continuous pendulum.

Even pouting and angry, he couldn’t help thinking that she was beautiful. Maybe that was why he couldn’t find the energy himself to be mad about the situation, because his mind was too involved in celebrating the time they now had alone. Whatever the reason, his insides squirmed too much for him to spend time worrying about it. He just wanted to help her smile again and was prepared to do just about anything to meet that goal.

“So, what d’ya wanna do?” he asked carefully, hoping that he was being vague enough not to turn her wrath on himself.

Cat absorbed the question and mulled over it for a few swings before she dug her heels abruptly into the dirt and brought herself to a stop. “I wanna be at that meeting,” she announced and zeroed in on her friend, oblivious to the quixotic thoughts passing through his head. “Are you with me?”

Jake stared for several seconds before his brain kicked into gear. “Uh… what? You mean, right now?”

“Duh, bozo.” Catherine rolled her eyes. _Boys!_ “Think you can help me escape your mom?”

“Erm…”

Sensing his hesitation, the girl softened her tone. “Come on, Jay. We’ve plotted worse things together,” she teased.

Jake sighed. “You always know how to get me into trouble,” he lamented before shrugging into action.

Leaving the garden, the boy entered the house and aimed straight for the kitchen where he knew his mother was keeping watch from the window. “Mom, can we have pizza?” he called as he blundered into the room, drawing his mother’s attention temporarily from the vista.

“You’re hungry?” Lila asked with half-shock, half-acceptance. She shook her head. “You’re so much like your father; we had lunch only an hour ago.” Despite the reminder, she relented and moved to the freezer in search of the requested meal. When her fingers hit on a box of the right shape and size, she pulled it out and threw it on the counter top. “I’m fairly sure Myka keeps this in here just for Pete,” she mumbled to herself and glanced out of the window again before moving to find a pair of scissors. Freezing half way through the move, she did a double take towards the swing, where her niece had sat the past hour. “Where’s Cat?” she asked, turning immediately on her son. “Jake. Where’s Cat?” she demanded as the teen avoided her gaze and found intense interest in his shoes. “Damn it!” she cursed and reached for her phone. “Pete? Yes… No… Shut up a minute will you! Cat’s gone. She’s probably on her way over.” After hanging up, she turned disappointed eyes back on the boy.

“Sorry, Mom,” he said and winced slightly as arms unexpectedly circled his shoulders.

“Risking everything for a girl?” Lila asked, though she hardly needed an answer. “So much like your father. Well, come on then,” she ordered, shook her head and turned to the front door. “We’ll talk about punishments later.”

Jake followed his mother at a subdued pace, his eyes following the journey of his feet until they came upon Rupert and Eleanor’s house and were ushered inside. Murmurs came from the direction of the dining room, but his attention narrowed instantly on the sound of his Aunt Helena’s stern voice coming from the living room opposite. Guilt tugged at his stomach, along with another unidentified twisting as Cat’s angry response followed. Feeling a hand pushing him forwards, he slunk into the room and dared a glance at the two formidable Wells-Bering females. HG’s dark gaze met his own and he immediately found interest in his feet again. How many times had he allowed Cat to drag him into these scenarios now?

Helena seemed to read the boy’s mind as she asked, “Jake, when are you going to stop obeying my daughter’s every whim, hmm?” Turning on the girl, she added, “And when are you going to show more respect for your friends and stop dragooning them into trouble?”

“I just wanted you to involve me!” Cat complained, almost ignoring her mother’s point.

“Well, until you can demonstrate more restraint and maturity, I am not likely to!” She watched hurt and defiance cross her daughter’s face and took several calming breaths of her own. “Catherine, I understand that you don’t appreciate being left out, but you are not yet an adult and as your parents, it is our responsibility to see to your safety.”

“Freddy and Sophie aren’t eighteen yet either,” Cat argued hotly.

“Yet they have managed prove that they are able and willing to follow simple instructions and to heed their elders,” the inventor pointed out firmly.

Catherine huffed, but didn’t have a counter argument. Could it be that her mother had good reason to ban her and Jake from these family meetings?

“We will discuss this further when we get home,” Helena told Cat before making her way back to the door.

“What are _we_ supposed to do?” the teen asked incredulously.

HG’s controlled demeanour hardened and anger flared behind her eyes. “I suggest _you_ take some time to compose yourself and contemplate your behaviour. If I were you, I would think of a sincere apology for Lila and Jake. As of this moment, you are grounded.” Her daughter’s chest puffed up with frustration, but the inventor was at the end of her tether and not in a mood to listen to her youngest let off steam. “Not another word, young lady. Your thoughtless actions have hindered our efforts enough for one day.”

Helena carried the image of hazel eyes filling with tears and buried it to revisit later. So many emotions played with her mind since Claudia’s arrival in her home that morning and she had to prioritise what she could. As she returned to the dining room and retook her seat, Myka’s hand slid into her own. While they no longer needed the physical contact to help them share the depths of their feelings, it made the process of ordering and controlling them easier. No one understood the confusing war between her guilt, fear and ire like her wife did and that knowledge kept both regents from falling apart in the face of the threats perpetually falling their way.

“What have I missed?” the inventor asked coolly, her tone all business-like now.

“We were speculating on what Heracles could want with my bones,” Christina explained glibly, though her pale complexion and wandering gaze betrayed her turbulent thoughts. “A macabre marionette perhaps?”

A few people cracked a smile at the attempted humour, but most were too concerned about the possibilities to find amusement in anything at that moment. Sitting at the opposite end of the long table, Adwin Kosan and Mrs Fredrick flanked a drawn looking caretaker. While the head regent and Claudia had managed to cling to their youthful visage, the ex-caretaker was finally showing her years, her once buxom figure having shrunk, giving her a diminished air. Retirement didn’t appear to suit her, but she hardly seemed worried by the fact. Actually, the wistful light in her eyes showed a depth of acceptance and understanding that only someone of her years and experience could achieve – she was aging at last and not afraid of the natural consequences.

Claudia’s sunken eyes scanned her friends’ faces and felt the weight of responsibility push firmly on her shoulders. They’d listened to everyone’s theories and discussed the likelihood of each one, but she had her own inkling and cleared her throat to grab everyone’s attention. “I think, since the heir believes that you are our champion, your remains will allow him access to the Warehouse.” Even as she said these words and considered their validity, she felt a sharp warning in the pit of her stomach – she knew she was right.

“But, they can’t actually do that, can they?” Pete groaned. “CJ’s bones don’t have that kind of mojo, do they?”

The redhead wished she had better news to answer that question. Wished that she could allay all of their fears, but her gut and her connection to the Warehouse told that any hope to that end was in vain. “I think Mr. Highandmighty can wave his macabre CJ marionette and ‘hey, presto’ he’ll be walking the red carpet right into the heart of the Warehouse.”

“Well… poop,” Pete muttered after a moment of silence.

“We should be asking ourselves how we can stop him,” Myka spoke calmly, breaking the tension that had grown around them once again. “But I think it was inevitable that our battle would move there. We’ve known for some time now that Heracles has the edge in this struggle. He’s had many years to learn how to achieve his goals. We’ve accepted this; it’s nothing new.”

A murmur of reluctant agreement swept the room and across from the younger regent, Jane Lattimer slapped a hand on the table with renewed energy. “Myka’s right. We can’t let any of Heracles’ dirty tricks distract us. We knew that he’d hit us where we’re weakest – with family – but we can’t let him win these mind games.”

“He’s had long enough to find a way into the Warehouse,” Steve uttered, finding a scrap of hope beneath his need for justice. “No matter whose bones he has, we need to treat this like any other artefact. Sorry, CJ,” he added with a small, apologetic gesture to the young woman.

Christina felt all eyes on her and sucked in a lungful of air. “Don’t apologise. It’s what I need to hear.” She felt Thomas’ hand against her lower back and leant into it surreptitiously.

They were stood beside Fredrick and Sophie, facing her parents, and since the moments she’d heard the news of her disentombed remains, she had wanted to snuggle between her mothers and seek comfort in their arms. Thinking about her death had that effect on her, so it was good to hear some level-headed views on the subject.

Thomas felt the need to stand stronger, as he always did when his girlfriend was unsure, and voiced his own thoughts on the subject, “We know he has other artefacts. We’ve been preparing to deal with them, but there’s not much that we can do until we find out where he is.”

“How are we doing on that front?” Mr Kosan asked, addressing his fellow regents.

Don had taken charge of leading the search and he shifted in his chair, wishing that he had better news. “I’m afraid that laying low is another example of something the heir has mastered during his many years on this earth. Years ago, we narrowed it down to a continent – Europe. More recently, we discovered that he is operating from somewhere within one of Germany’s cities, but that’s as far as we’ve managed to trace him. It is a vast country and as much as I would enjoy travelling all over the region, taking in the sights, I don’t think the effort will gather much fruit.”

“So, we’re stuck with waiting him out,” Freddy grumbled.

HG nodded absently and exchanged a glance with her wife. “We are more defensible here and are less likely to walk into the unknown, as happened in Australia. He’s patient because he’s had a millennium to practise. We have been patient through necessity and must continue in that vein.” She contemplated that thought for a moment before adding, “I do not think we will be waiting much longer if Heracles is beginning to take risks that will ensure he is noticed though.”

The conversation soon turned to what the five squads were doing to help calm the situation with the mass suicides. While the Warehouse’s active agents were tracking the artefact that had caused it, Alpha squad stood ready to assist the Wells-Bering family and their associates, Gamma squad were on rotation patrolling and training on the island, and the remaining three squads were spread across different continents, helping out where they could. With these efforts ongoing, the regents had to be satisfied that they were doing everything they could as a team.

As the meeting dissolved and people began to say their farewells, HG and Myka hung back with Eleanor and Rupert until they were the only four left.

Mrs Wells observed the younger two regents for a moment and felt the intensity of their family’s destiny on their shoulders. It was a burden that would have crushed most souls, but thankfully the pair had each other – they managed to stay afloat thanks to their unique bond. Still, it didn’t hurt to have others who were willing to offer the occasional reprieve. Because she couldn’t stand to see her granddaughter in distress, she often took up that mantle herself. “Well, my dears, it could be worse,” she declared as she made a show of relaxing in her chair. At two pairs of curious looks, she elaborated, “There could be a tea shortage.”

“That would be a tragedy,” the inventor replied. A pause and then a sound halfway between a sob and amused hysteria escaped her. For a few minutes, HG covered her mouth and tried to supress the manic laughter that bubbled up from inside, fuelled by her fear and feeling of being utterly ineffectual in this fight. Some days, she wondered why she bothered to pick up another book for research, or try to keep her skills sharp. What good was it when all they seemed to be doing was waiting for the hammer to fall? Patience may have been something she’d developed through necessity, but it didn’t follow that it came easily to her. Waiting like a lamb for slaughter was not in her nature. A hand found its way beneath the hem of her shirt and sat warm against her lower back – bringing her breathing slowly back under control. She thanked every deity that she had Myka to keep her sane through this mess.

Eleanor’s expression held a soft apology, but the sentiment was more for their situation than her attempt at humour. They were all well aware that dark days, which had loomed ominously in their future for many years, approached rapidly. Everyone felt on edge, primed to jump at shadows on the wall and snap at loved ones, but there remained the knowledge that life would continue to plod steadily along in the meantime and they had little choice but to obey its yoke.

Once she had her breath back, HG thought back to the incident that had dragged her out of the meeting. “What are we going to do about Cat?” She turned to her wife, but found the same indecision that she felt from within. “I think if we don’t loosen the reins a little, she’s going to think that her only recourse it to break free entirely and do something rash.”

“Agreed,” Rupert muttered reluctantly. “I do not believe we need tell of whom she reminds us,” he added with a grin shared between his wife and granddaughter.

Helena rolled her eyes but smiled regardless. “Which only convinces me more that early intervention is required.”

“It’s catch twenty-two; she hasn’t yet proved that she can be trusted with more responsibility, but we must allow her more responsibility so she can prove herself,” Myka noted, voicing their dilemma. “We need to sit down with her and lay all of our concerns on the table. We’ve been guilty lately of making demands without making the time to be clear with her about our intentions. It’s no wonder really that she’s rebelling.”

“She might believe that she’s being treated differently due to a defect on her part,” Rupert offered cautiously. He’d been observing his great-granddaughter as she struggled to find her place in the world. While Helena had battled against the views of an era that held very firm restrictions around the role of women in society, Catherine seemed to find her wealth of possibilities overwhelming and daunting. She needed to prove herself but wanted for guidance more than freedom. He took a breath before voicing this opinion, knowing that it might not be well received by the three progressive women surrounding him.

“Are you suggesting that we’re neglecting Cat?” Myka wondered after a brief silence, her tone clearly showcasing her disbelief.

HG was just as quick to back up her wife’s rebuttal and straightened in her seat, building steam for an unexpected argument. “We have taken great pains to guide all of our children, at every junction of their lives. What more would you have us do?”

Eleanor held up a hand in supplication, knowing instinctively that it was not her husband’s intention to offend or criticise the couple on their parenting. “Rupert, love, I am certain that you have a valid point to make. I suggest you reach the crux of it before Helena and Myka decide to be affronted by your words.”

Mollified by the matriarch’s calm words and patient tone, the younger couple relaxed a little and remembered who they were speaking to. “Go ahead,” Myka allowed with a small wave of her hand. “We’ll listen.”

Mr Wells nodded his appreciation and took a moment to collect his thoughts, his hands clasped lightly on the table top as his eyes appeared to study the intricate swirls in the woodgrain. “To the best of your ability, you have given Catherine all of the encouragement, support and boundaries that a child needs to grow into a healthy, happy individual. I do not dispute the fact that you are wonderful parents who love your children very much.”

Helena shifted in her seat as a mixture of pride and anticipation ran through her and bounced off her wife. “However…?”

“Like most parents, you want her to have the opportunity to experience a childhood free from the perils of the world. You want her to have the chance to grow into her strengths and experience the life of a teenager without concern for the struggles which you face daily. Yes?”

Myka nodded slowly. She was beginning to see where this conversation was going and knew that HG felt the same resistance to what Rupert was close to suggesting. “You don’t think that will be possible in our situation?”

“I think that Catherine will resist any attempt you make to treat her like a normal teenager. She knows what it means to serve at the heels of the Warehouse and needs to feel valued as a part of that hidden world. I believe that by encouraging her to ignore the weight of our destiny in favour of frivolity, no matter how well meaning, she is being told that she doesn’t belong. At the same time, she continues to struggle with integrating into the ‘normal’ world. She is in a sort of indeterminate state.”

“Her own limbo,” Myka muttered coolly.

Rupert attempted a half smile and held both hands up in surrender. “I do not say these things to hurt you.”

Helena nodded silently and felt tears stab at her eyes. She felt guilt rise into the back of her throat but somehow managed to speak around it. “We chose to bring her into the world. She should have every opportunity to be happy.”

“Any more or less than Christina or Fredrick?” Eleanor questioned softly.

“No, I did not mean to imply that her happiness was more important that theirs, but they’ve been allowed to express themselves and find out who they are without too many complications; major conflict was mostly a distant concept. With everything coming to a head, every moment where we are not in conflict, she should use to her advantage.” Sighing heavily, she ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m not explaining this well, am I?”

Myka reached over to pull white-knuckled fingers into her own. “Whatever our reasons for the restrictions we’ve placed on Cat, perhaps Rupert is right; she’s simply not going to be content with _normal_.”

“Perhaps all you need to do is to redefine what ‘happiness’ means,” Mrs Wells suggested.

Rupert nodded, pleased that they were beginning to understand his concerns. “Talk to Catherine. Find out what she wants and then negotiate a way to make that happen.”

Both feeling slightly reprimanded, the younger regents left the dining room with shared incentive to make reparations with their youngest. They couldn’t openly allow Catherine to think that her rebellious decisions were acceptable, but they each secretly admired their daughter’s tenacity. Renegotiating the teen’s boundaries was a conversation that needed time and care though, so while they returned to the living room, they left the fifteen-year-old to sulk as part of her punishment.

A short time later, amid some quiet bickering between Sophie and Freddy, the guests bid their farewells to Eleanor and Rupert, and the Wells-Bering gang wandered back to their abode with the Lattimers in tow. Cat disappeared into her bedroom almost as soon as the front door closed behind them, leaving her mothers to decide between them how long they should wait before invading the girl’s space. Myka decided that food would serve as a good peace offering and turned the oven on for the defrosted pizza that couldn’t be re-frozen.

In the living room, Fredrick and Sophie battled over the long sofa, offering a welcome distraction from the gloomy thoughts that filled everyone’s head. Freddy’s superior strength held him in good stead for several minutes, until a determined look crossed his friend’s face and a cushion smacked him solidly about the head, forcing him to retreat. Taking swift advantage, Sophie used her toes to find the young man’s soft underbelly and poked as many sensitive targets as she could reach.

“Ow! Stop it; that’s not fair!” Fredrick complained, his voice stuck somewhere between pained and amused. “Hey, watch it!” he added in a panic as his friend’s feet jabbed too close for comfort at his most vulnerable parts. When the assault stopped, he glared playfully, took a moment to enjoy the sparkle in Sophie’s eyes and then grabbed a cushion and held it high to gather momentum. Focussed intent turned to confusion as his weapon disappeared from his hand and he turned to find his mum’s forbidding expression looking down on him.

“If you two are going to fight, use your own furniture,” she scolded the older teens and then smiled as she swatted her son lightly over the head. At her pointed look, they made room for her to squash between them and she immediately launched an assault of her own, wrapping her arms around Freddy’s shoulders and trying to land a kiss on his cheek.

“Yeuch, Mum! Gerr’off!” the young man complained and squirmed under his mother’s affection.

After a round of titters swept the room, HG relented and relaxed into the sofa. She thought back to Norrie’s tea joke and realised that she too used laughter to break the tension that life so often brought to their lives. As rewarding as it was, being a parent never really got easier. Add into that the unique difficulties of trying to save the world from a millennium-old megalomaniac, and these sorts of calming tactics were ever more important. Looking around the room, she knew that she was lucky to have such a wonderful family with which to share the experience. She just hoped that she would continue to do so once the battle was won.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sinister voice of my muse: FEED ME!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More worrying signs from the enemy and teenage angst...

** Chapter Three **

_Christina knew the moment that she became conscious of the train and the passengers that she would not be alone with her dreamscape for long. Anticipation coiled tightly in her stomach and slowly, grew a tingling awareness of a figure beside her. A strange combination of excitement and dread replaced the impatient fluttering and she held her figurative breath as she waited to see what Heracles had to say to her tonight._

_“Do you yet know this vehicle’s destination?” he asked with curious condescension._

_“It’s a metaphorical train,” Christina replied with a roll of her eyes. “What I would like the destination to be must vary from day to day. Somewhere along the route will come an opportunity to meet you on the field of battle.”_

_“You think so? I admire your conviction. I could find a use for such tenacity.” His eyes locked on to her face, searching for any change in her expression._

_Christina’s eyes narrowed. “I have no interest in anything you have to offer.”_

_“Truly? Are you so close-minded?” he tutted. “I must admit, I expected more from a child of the Warehouse.”_

_“Meaning?”_

_“With all of your experience and teachings, you must know that there is always more than one side to a story. Often, you’ll find many layers and nuances. Are you so naïve to think that I have none?”_

_Christina’s inner voice nodded along to those words without her permission; she didn’t want to agree but it was an idea that had stayed her hand before – often while sorting out squabbles between her sister and various other people. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where Heracles’ story would change her mind about the course of her mission to defeat him, but she was curious nevertheless. How had his life moulded him into the villain she saw today?_

_“Do you think you can justify your actions to my satisfaction?” she asked irately – thinking of the victims in his wake, with Meghan sitting at the forefront of her mind. “Enough that I will change my mind?”_

_“To you, I doubt the means will justify the end,” he replied in an off-hand manner, as if her moral convictions meant little to him. “It does not necessarily follow that you will find the end concept entirely displeasing.”_

_“And you want to enlighten me?”_

_Her narrowed eyes amused rather than disheartened him. “Next time perhaps,” he told her with cool confidence as he stood and needlessly straightened his coat. “Sleep well, Miss Wells-Bering.”_

Christina was still clenching her teeth in anger and frustration when she woke. Her thoughts were in turmoil and she was too tense to stay in bed to seek comfort from Thomas. Slipping from beneath the covers, she grabbed a robe and gradually made her way downstairs with a cup of coffee. Knowing that her Mama had found peace and solace on the shop floor, surrounded by her fictional and non-fictional friends, Christina managed to breathe through her confusion to find her calm centre again.

These shared dreams were affecting her more than she liked to admit. Heracles’ appearance during her sleeping hours was so sporadic that she couldn’t predict when he might turn up next; she went to bed every night with the dread that another confrontation might await her.

Was this the reason for his visits? Was his aim to deprive her of sleep and make her see shadows around every corner? After conferring with Claudia, they agreed that a month was long enough for their experiment and they couldn’t afford to let them continue indefinitely, even if the meetings did have potential benefit. She yet wasn’t sure how to stop the dreams, but she knew that Claudia would help her find a way.

Whatever his reasons for doing so, he was playing with her mind and she could not allow him to divide her opinions. She’d thought about this long and hard. Even if she eventually understood his point of view or agreed with his reasons, she couldn’t allow him to actually succeed. But she worried that by allowing those thoughts into her mind, somehow, they would change her character and she would become like the zealots who obeyed Heracles’ every whim without question. Though normally an open-minded individual who welcomed new ideas, she could not afford to let doubt into her heart.

After sending a message to the caretaker, requesting some time to talk about her concerns, Christina picked up her drink and returned to the apartment. A quick peek into the bedroom told her that Thomas was still asleep. The door clicked shut softly behind her and she made a pit-stop in the kitchen for more coffee before shutting herself in her aunt’s old room, which was now a study. Moving automatically, she switched the computer on, pressed play on the stereo that was already programmed with her playlists, and grabbed a yellow notebook from the shelf.

During the years since Meghan’s murder, because she didn’t trust the agents inside the Warehouse, she’d taken it upon herself to investigate. The deceased agent’s notes had been surprisingly professional and detailed for a woman who always seemed blasé about her role, but they had proven to be very useful, especially when it came to following the movements of a certain henchwoman.

After her mothers’ semi-disastrous trip to Australia and Fredrick’s brush with death, Christina had searched obsessively for a way to get to Heracles with the intention of ending his operation once and for all, but as Regent Heath had discovered, the heir was good at hiding. Rather than allow herself to feel despondent and give up though, the young champion turned her attentions to Agent Coombs’ notes and the copious references she made to Heracles’ second in command.

She might have her suspicions about Cassandra’s role in saving her brother’s life, but Christina knew in her gut that the commander would have no issue with killing any of the Wells-Bering family if ordered to do so. That made Cassandra a threat and after reading all about the woman’s skills in combat and her cruel streak, she felt a renewed sense of purpose in finding and neutralising her.

Her search wasn’t a secret by any means, but Christina alone knew the lengths she was prepared to go to in order to protect the people she loved. At nineteen, she had out smarted and out manoeuvred the two most skilled and intelligent people she knew – her mothers – so surely now she would have no problem dealing with one obedient thug, so long as she was adequately prepared.

Unease churned in her stomach whenever she acknowledged the fact that she was treading on dangerous ground. Wasn’t this the same path her Mum had taken, in some weird and twisted way; pursuing too much without telling anyone about it? But then she found herself rationalising her decisions – telling herself that she was just researching and hadn’t done anything dangerous yet. It was a thin line, but she felt confident that she could stay on top. She had a wealth of knowledge and experience to fall back on after all. What could be the harm?

* * * * *

Fredrick stood in front of his open wardrobe, gazing nervously at the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. He’d already showered, dressed, emptied his bowels and brushed his teeth; the last two, images that he knew shouldn’t co-exist in anyone’s mind, but which lingered in the part of his brain that needed a distraction from the seriousness of the coming day.

His gown still hung on his bedroom door, taunting him. This was it – the end of high school, the beginning of the rest of his life. Logically, he knew that graduation was little more than a pat on the back before being thrown into the confusing world of adulthood, but for some reason he was still terrified of stepping up onto that stage and receiving his diploma. He pulled a breath in through his nose and pushed it slowly out through his mouth. With a second breath, he puffed out his chest and turned his face around, studying his chin.

“Checking for fluff?” Cat’s voice sniggered from the open doorway.

Freddy shoved the wardrobe door closed as a flush climbed up to his ears. “What d’you want, Cat?”

The teen shrugged. “I’m officially un-grounded today. You want to play some XBox?”

“I’m gonna be kinda busy today, in case you weren’t aware,” Freddy rolled his eyes and turned back to his now squashed and probably creased outfit. “Don’t you need to get ready too,” he added after a beat.

“Yeah, but who needs more than five minutes to throw on a clean shirt, pants and shoes?” she shrugged again and scuffed her toe against the doorframe. “We’ve got like, two hours, right?” She chanced a look at her brother’s face and couldn’t help but notice the tension there. “Come on, Freddy. What are you going to do up here – stare at yourself while you try to grow a beard before the ceremony?”

The young man cracked a smile and nodded. “I suppose I could spare an hour for my annoying baby sister,” he teased and pushed her gently out of the room.

“I’m not a baby,” Cat whined as she led them down to the living room.

They warmed up the console and sank into the couch, thumbs hovering over the buttons as they waited for the game to load. In years gone by, they spent as much time battling aliens and racing super cars as their parents would allow, but as Fredrick advanced through his teens, he had less and less time to spend with his younger sister, and Catherine found interests elsewhere too. After a few minutes of getting reacquainted with the controls though, they felt like no time had passed at all.

“So, what are you going to do with your freedom now you’re allowed to leave the house again?” Freddy asked when they reached a transition in the game.

Catherine shot an incredulous glance at her brother before turning back to the screen. “Do you really think our moms are going to let me go anywhere now?” she scoffed. “You and Chrissy are adults – well, you nearly are – so they can’t control what you do or where you go. Guess who they’re going to wrap in a bubble?” she grumbled and mashed her buttons in frustration, making her character perform a series of random flips that went unnoticed by the non-playable-characters.

Freddy cringed in sympathy and swung an axe through the head of a charging ogre. “They just want us to be safe. Tina and I had to put up with it too. It’s just hard to see from your point of view ‘cause you’re the youngest.”

“Well, they agreed to let me in on future meetings that you’re invited to, so long as I keep my nose clean,” the younger teen explained with a smug smile.

“Good,” Fredrick responded with genuine happiness. It was difficult watching his sister flounder under the inequality of age and experience. Though he understood his parents’ reasons, he knew how Cat felt when she was deliberately left out. He paused the game and turned his warm brown eyes to capture hazel with a deadly serious stare. “You do know that if you mess this up, you’ll end up being watched every second of the day with no freedom to do anything but take a piss by yourself, don’t you?” He knew he was laying it on a bit thick but he wanted her to understand how much trust their mothers were putting in her control.

Catherine winced at the image. She’d been so pleased with herself for pushing her parents to a point where they were willing to see her as more than a kid that she hadn’t considered the consequences if she should fail. Sure, her Mum had threatened something dire if she acted thoughtlessly again, but she’d been too high on her success to really listen to that part. Her brother’s words brought the full weight of her responsibility to reality though.

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think? I’m only human, you know?”

“I’m not talking about when things go wrong, even when you’ve tried to do the right thing.” He sighed and placed his controller to one side. “Shit happens, we all know that. But you’re impulsive, Cat. When you have a bee in your bonnet, you’re relentless and you don’t always think things through.” He rolled his eyes at the sullen look that came over her expression. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful. Our moms are trying hard to keep things normal while we wait for the storm to arrive, but that doesn’t mean we’re not under threat. There’s no need to tempt fate by doing stupid things. Like sneaking around on your own or trying to be a hero.” His eyebrow rose with a knowing look. “I learnt that the hard way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the fifteen-year-old relented with an exaggerated eye-roll. “I get the picture.” Despite her outward nonchalance, her eyes said that she had taken her brother’s warning to heart. She picked up the controller and offered it to Fredrick, hoping to entice him into another period of distraction, but he shook his head.

“Nah, I think it’s time to finish getting ready. You know grams and gramps will be here soon and then we’re going to have to pose for about a thousand photos.”

He was right. The minute their great-grandparents arrived and their mothers saw Catherine still glued to the TV, they ushered her upstairs with forty minutes still to go and insisted that she be ready and downstairs in twenty. As predicted, it took her no time at all to don the clothes that had been left out for her. She even found a couple of minutes to entertain Spyder with an errant shoelace. But as usual, she’d failed to account for her unruly hair and still stood at the mirror after fifteen minutes trying to tame the frizzy mess.

“Urgh!” she screamed in frustration and threw her brush at the door, narrowly missing her mama. A contrite look flitted across her face before she slumped onto the bed.

Wordlessly, Myka picked up the projectile and climbed onto the mattress. She situated herself behind her daughter and began to tease handfuls of hair with practised ease. Before long, she had the untameable mass flowing in thick rivers down the girl’s back and began to knot it into a loose plait. When she was done, she hopped off the bed and turned Catherine to inspect her handywork. They were very nearly the same height now and the waistcoat-shirt combination that Helena had donated at the girl’s request reminded her so much of her wife in the early days of their acquaintance that she felt like crying.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered and planted a kiss on Catherine’s forehead before she saw an opportunity to escape.

“Ma-ah,” the teen whined as a blush crept along her neck.

Myka chuckled. “I know these last few years have been hard, but I really wish you wouldn’t insist on growing up so fast.”

“I’m not a baby,” Cat insisted, feeling like a broken record.

“No, you’re not. You’re a very dapper looking young woman and before we know it, you’ll be the one in the cap and gown,” the regent commented as a tear gathered in her eye.

Squirming under the scrutiny, the teen inched towards the door. “It must be time to go, right?” she asked, testing her escape.

The mother shook her head, her own curls bouncing. “After photos.”

“Urgh!”

* * * * *

An old man in a plain but well-pressed suit entered his boss’ study, his daily report all prepared as per his instructions. Heracles sat at his desk, entertaining two of his generals, but turned as the old man entered and offered his undivided attention. Even after years of delivering news to Lloyd Spenser-Chapman, he never entirely sure what reaction to expect and stole himself as he began to speak, “Sir, the Warehouse agents continue their search for John Cooper’s microphone but they have begun to split their attentions to other artefacts again.” He ignored the impatient huff from the man directly to his right, who gave off a faint odour of decay, and continued. “Two are heading east to Mongolia and two remain in Rio. The caretaker has been sighted again in Colorado.”

Heracles absorbed the information without reaction, though his thoughts whirred energetically. “Thank you, you are dismissed,” he told the old man and waited until the door was closed again before turning to his companions. “I think it is safe to say that our adversaries are unaware of what their distraction has cost them. Mr Kipling,” he turned to the somewhat sullen looking gent. “I assume that you are prepared to use the remainder of your time wisely?”

Kipling’s head perked up and he straightened in his chair, attempting perhaps to look more imposing and/or attentive. He placed his arm on the desk and a very audible _thunk_ came from the gloved end. Since the incident in Australia where his superior had seen fit to punish his disobedience, he’d toed the line and worn his remaining stump with silent petulance. Though he understood the heir’s insistence that his orders be followed without deviation, he still didn’t understand what was so wrong with the way he’d handled Wells’ American whore. On reflection, he wondered whether losing his hand was such a bad thing – the memory of Miss Bering’s fear was potent enough to sustain him through the worst of his own pain, and now his recently gifted prosthetic gave him a new weapon with which he could hurt his enemies. The weight had taken some getting used to, but the finely-crafted iron fist gave him a sense of power. Iron had built and sustained an empire. His empire. British dominance would rise again with him in charge.

Once Heracles had control of the Warehouse of course, and Kipling was nothing if not determined to see that plan through to its end. Excitement coiled inside him as it always did when he was given new direction. Was this the order that would give him Helena Wells?

“I am ready to serve,” he answered as expected.

“My time draws nearer. Cassandra, you will go ahead with our equipment and set up. I expect the task will take you no longer than a week,” he suggested and immediately received a nod from the commander. “Kipling, you will be ready to launch my first strike on the Wells-Bering family – I want you in Colorado. When I give the order, I will need you to force them to ground. The rest they will take care of themselves,” he explained, his gaze taking on a faraway quality as he pictured the panicked retreat. “You will be given sufficient assistance when the moment arrives. Until then, hold your distance.”

Kipling squirmed. He really wished that Heracles had not added that last part. He thirsted to make Helena Wells pay for her insolence and knew that being so close to her family would prove tempting. Surely it would not hurt his superior’s plans so much… “And if I should spy an opportunity for sabotage without ruining your plans?”

Heracles appeared to give the request some consideration before nodding once. “I will leave that to your discretion, so long as you keep in mind the consequences should your actions have a detrimental effect on my goals.”

A dark smile fell over Kipling’s face and he left to prepare for his journey with the smug expression of someone who had malevolent plans in mind. Heracles watched him go and turned an expectant look on the commander once they were alone. “You wish to comment?” he prompted her.

“He has no intention of keeping his distance,” Cassandra noted bluntly. “You know this and yet you are allowing him to leave. I wish to understand.”

“Either he will not find the opportunity he so desires and will be forced to wait for my order, or else he will do something to incur their wrath and force them to consider his permanent end. I do not see a downside for me in either of those scenarios,” Heracles concluded with little emotion.

“You do not think that they will run to ground before time if he threatens their safety?” Cassandra pressed the point.

“Not for a single foe. They are more resilient than that,” he replied, dismissing the idea. “I assume that you are aware of everything you need to do?”

The commander hesitated for a fraction of a second as she considered chasing her concerns. She had long been aware that Heracles saw potential stumbling blocks as opportunities to further his own goals and chose to trust that he knew what he was doing. This day was no different.

* * * * *

Jake sat on his bed, sulking. He wanted to throw something. Preferably something breakable so his parents would have a real reason to send him to his room rather than the trumped-up charges he was under now. Instead, he grabbed a pillow and dropped it in front of him so he could pummel it into submission. A grunt escaped his throat with each punch and the sound of something ripping did nothing to slow him down. At the creak of door hinges though, he paused and glanced automatically to identify his visitor. Seeing his sister, who was still parading her cap and gown, the frozen expression on his face turned into a scowl.

“What do _you_ want?” he grumbled and wrapped his fist into his punch bag, ready to throw it at her if needed.

Sophie rolled her eyes and leant against the door frame. “You’re an idiot,” she told him. “Why’d you start a fight with Dad? He’s probably the only one in this house who actually gets you.”

The teen’s soulful eyes turned down and his shoulders shrugged in a universal expression of obstinance and uncertainty. “I dunno, do I? He was just getting on my nerves.”

The young woman smirked and shook her head in an exaggerated ‘mom-like’ way. “Teenagers,” she lamented, the teasing clear in her tone.

Rage surged suddenly within the boy and he flung his pillow at the doorway, hoping more than believing that his aim was true. The sound of his sister’s mocking laugh pulled him from his bed and he lunged. Her gleeful expression barely faltered and, torn between wanting to punch the smugness off her face and knowing that he shouldn’t, he grabbed the door instead and slammed it with so much force that it shook the shelf-full of trophies beside it. Continuing his fit of anger, he threw himself back on his bed and screamed into the mattress.

A tiny tear of frustration gathered in each eye and he stubbornly blinked them away. Even if a part of him knew that Sophie was right – he’d been warned often enough by teachers and parents that mood swings were part and parcel of ageing into an adult – he had no intention of admitting it. She deliberately tried to make him explode with anger and he was fed up of it! A soft knock at the door interrupted his private thoughts for revenge against his annoying sibling and he turned his head just enough to call out a terse, “What!?”

Thoroughly expecting his sister’s teasing tone or his father’s admonishing one, he felt an abrupt sense of relief and vulnerability when his mother answered. “Jake?” He turned back into the comfort of his bed and tried to swallow the lump that rose in his throat.

Lila picked up the discarded pillow without complaint and closed the door softly behind her. She gazed down at her little boy and sighed inwardly as she recalled the many tantrums she’d weathered as a parent. It never ended, but she wouldn’t trade any of it for an uncomplicated life without her children… Or the man-child who’d fathered them. Knowing that she’d get a reaction, she swatted the pillow across the teen’s back and stood ready with a loving smile as he turned that practised scowl on her. With his face now exposed, she leant down to kiss his cheek and then swatted him a second time before putting the soft weapon back in its proper place. A half-smile was already forming at the corners of her son’s mouth and she perched on the edge of the mattress so that she could run her fingers soothingly through his hair.

There was very little that she felt she needed to say to him at that moment. She’d heard the shouting match that Pete and their son had waged in the living room over Jake’s refusal to turn off the gaming console. She could hardly have avoided it. And though she very much agreed that two hours was more than enough timed glued to the TV, she knew, as the entire household had known for a while, that her son was hurting over something far less innocuous.

“Your Dad wants you to put your gym clothes on; he’s taking you out.” She watched as the teen shoved his face into the mattress and heard a muffled ‘don’t wanna’. “I know you don’t,” she replied. “But you’re going to because it’s better than hiding away.”

“He sent me to my room,” Jake answered stubbornly. “I’m supposed to stay here until dinner.”

“And now you can go out. Think of it as a conditional pardon.”

He tried to ignore the bubbling interest inside and find an excuse not to go, but one look at his mother’s pleading expression pulled him up, forcing him to stomp over to a pile of clothes on his desk and rummage around for his track-suit. He fully expected his mother to comment and nag about the face that he had not yet put his clean laundry away and the pile was close to mingling with the dirty clothes that he’d dropped on the chair, but she didn’t and he was grateful.

His dad was already in the car, waiting for him, when he arrived downstairs and slumped out the front door. They didn’t speak at all during the drive downtown, but it didn’t feel like the tense silence that usually accompanied the hours following an argument. The ex-secret service agent was relaxed and calm, a soft humming and tapping coming from him as he listened to the radio. By the time they arrived at their destination, Jake had cooled down from the temper incurred from his sister and only felt a mild, residual annoyance from the stupid thoughts that had set him off in the first place.

Pete made a show of limbering up; he stretched his shoulders, arms, chest and back, took several deep breaths, and lifted each leg in turn against a corner post before squatting with the help of a ring-side rope and almost falling on his ass. Finally, he moved back to the centre of the ring, stretched his neck, wiped his nose and tapped his gloves together. Any stranger watching might be excused for thinking that he hadn’t just spent half an hour warming up and stretching in the gym upstairs.

“Right, kiddo,” he jeered and danced on the balls of his feet. “Prepare for a takedown!”

Jake rolled his eyes and cracked a smile. His dad was such a goof. If they were anywhere else – anywhere that someone might recognise him – the young Lattimer boy would have died of embarrassment by now. But there were only a couple of old guys lifting weights in one corner and a lone woman beating the stuffing out of a punch bag in another. He could live with that.

“In your dreams, old man!” he parried and felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

Once they’d showered and changed, Pete drove to one of his favourite side-street cafes and found them an isolated table in the back. After ordering a ‘light’ snack of cheese-steaks and fries, he leant back in his seat and quietly observed his son. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper with you this morning. It was dumb; I knew you were trying to goad a reaction out of me.” He watched a sheepish look fall over his son’s face and let the teen stew for a minute in his own shame. He was too soft to let the boy suffer for long though and reached over to tap his fist against Jake’s shoulder. “Live and learn, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the lad answered with a relieved smile. “Sorry, Dad.”

“So, what’s got you so twisted up?” Pete asked, beginning his interrogation. He and Lila had agreed that he’d stay out with their son for as long as it took to get an actual answer out of the boy. Jake had been moping for weeks and the tension in the house was starting to reach dangerous levels. “It’s just us boys here and there’s not much you could say to me that would shock me.”

Jake bit his thumb, tearing off a tiny piece of skin and wincing as it bit a little too deep into the flesh. “Dad, you were always good with girls, right? Before Mom. I mean, Aunt Myka’s always teasing you about letting Mom tie you down. Did you have a lot of girlfriends?”

While he didn’t regret his bachelor days, since becoming a dad, Pete had secretly hoped that he never had to talk about that period of his life with his kids. He’d been friends with Myka and HG long enough to understand how the syntax game worked though. “Girlfriends? No, not so many. I have a lot of friends who are girls and I was married once. No one holds a candle to your Mom though.”

Sceptical eyes scanned an ageing face for any hint of guilt for the misleading answer. Maybe his dad didn’t know that those ‘friends who were girls’ talked about him occasionally and never wasted an opportunity to recall his frequent conquests. Jake had been an unintentional witness to those conversations on more than one instance. Though he always puzzled over the way they used the word ‘conquest’, as if out of pity for the women in question. He couldn’t imagine his dad ever being mean to anyone.

“You were married?” Jake asked as he decided not to pursue the hidden lie.

“You’ve seen pictures of Amanda,” Pete reminded the kid and sighed as he watched his son’s eyes glaze over slightly.

“Oh yeah. The major,” Jake muttered and lost himself for a few seconds before a sharp clap brought him round and he blushed. “What do you do when there’s a girl you like?”

Pete sighed, relief and dread attacking his insides in one blow. They’d had the ‘boy to man’ talk the moment Jake had started spending twice as long in the shower and rescuing his sister’s beauty magazines from the recycling. That talk had been mostly about the kid taking care of his own body and discrete ways to go about handling the little general when it decided to stand at attention. This conversation would begin the second half of the game – the half that never truly ended.

“Jay,” the ex-agent began and leant forward so he could lower his voice slightly. “I could tell you all the pick-up lines I’ve ever thought of, give you advice on what gifts they might like – if that’s the way you want to play it, or advise you about how to act around girls, but gimmicks like that can only get you so far. The thing is, every girl is different. Even if they try to dress the same way, have the same hair, hobbies and opinions, no two girls are alike.”

“So, what do I do then?” the teen asked, feeling slightly panicked that his dad didn’t have a magic, fix-all answer.

“The only things you can do,” Pete answered and leant back again as he shrugged, “be you and be respectful.”

“What if she doesn’t like ‘me’?” Jake wondered, his voice still tight with anxiety. “Or what if she does like ‘me’ but doesn’t _like-_ like me?”

“Ah,” Pete said, grasping the crux of the issue at last. “It’s about Cat.”

Jake’s neck flushed all the way to the tips of his ears and he slid half a metre into his seat, his head stopping just above the top of the chair. “Daaad,” he groaned.

“I can’t help you there, kid,” he continued, shaking his head. “Only time can sort that problem out.” At the forlorn and frankly, miserable look that invaded his son’s usually carefree features, Pete leant forward again. “Hey, Jake, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it will get easier. Believe me!”

The teen’s eyebrow’s shot up at the absolute confidence in his dad’s voice. “Really? How d’you know?”

“Myka’s my best friend, right?”

“Yeah… You mean…?” Jake whispered, his tone on the cusp between shocked and horrified. “You… and Aunt Myka!?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “You know she’s not actually my sister, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Cat thinks of you like a brother and her mom was that way with me. Only, there was a time when I wanted more. Like you want more with Cat.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“But you never…?”

“No, but that’s ok. It all worked out for the best. If HG hadn’t come along, maybe Myka and I would’ve made a go of it, but I don’t think she’d have really been happy, not the way she is with Lady Cuckoo. I wouldn’t have wanted that for her. I wouldn’t have been really happy either, not the way I am with Lila.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Myka’s my best friend and I love her. If we were the last two people on this Earth, I’d give it a go, but I’m glad that HG dropped in when she did, and I’m even more glad that your mom agreed to put up with me for as long as she has. I’m glad Myka and I never had a chance to see how _blah_ we would’ve been together.”

Jake nodded. “So, how do I stop feeling this way?”

Pete shrugged. “Like I said, only time will sort that out. As for the rest, kid… When you stop worrying about what they think of you, you’ll find a way to be yourself. Any girl who doesn’t like you for _you,_ is not someone you need.” Despite knowing that self-discovery was a lifelong endeavour, he wished futilely for his son to find the wisdom that every teen needed.

Jake frowned and stared at his dad for a long, contemplative moment before reluctantly nodding. “It’s gonna suck, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

The teen slumped in his chair and groaned. “Frack.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are gratefully received!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Christina in this one. It's all getting darker, but I'm trying to inject a bit of humour here and there to mix it up.  
> I love the guessing - keep it coming!

Thomas stood behind the counter, checking the shop’s profits for the day as he half listened to his girlfriend’s phone call. He noted the rising tension and frustration in her voice and sighed inwardly. Almost six weeks had passed since Claudia had brought their attention to the first sign of battle with Heracles and Christina’s moods had been in turmoil ever since. Much as he had tried to weather the storm with compassion and stoicism, he was only human.

“… No… Mum, I can’t right now… No, I… Tommy and I are having a night in,” Christina hedged, trying to sound casual as she told bald-faced lies to her mother. She was pacing back and forth across the foyer, her right-hand tugging through strands of cropped hair.

Living with someone who was constantly on edge became trying after a while and even the most patient of people could be forgiven for losing their cool. Thomas knew that his girlfriend needed to vent to someone but he’d had enough of being the sounding board and felt his hackles rise the moment she hung up the phone and growled to herself.

“What don’t they understand?” she huffed as she threw her phone into her bag and flopped into a chair. “I can’t just drop everything to drive up to Boulder to have dinner. I spent all day in the shop ‘cause Haley was ill and I’m in the middle of a project to try and stop the next apocalypse.”

Thomas bit his tongue for about three seconds before he turned to face his girlfriend. “Dinner with your parents might actually help y’know,” he grumbled.

Christina frowned, surprise and confusion painting her features. “What do you mean?” she asked tersely.

He threw his hands up, giving into the frustration that had been building inside him for days. “You’re not sleeping or eating properly and you’re avoiding all of the people who care about you. A night away from all of that might help you to chill the fuck out.”

“I haven’t been avoiding _you,”_ she countered, taking offence at his tone and responding with attitude of her own. _Doesn’t he understand what I’m up against?_

“No, you haven’t been avoiding me, but it seems that you barely even notice that I’m here until you need someone to complain to or when you’re in the mood for… bed cardio,” the young man accused bitterly.

In another time and place, they might have recognised the warning signs sooner. They might have taken a few calming breaths, modulated their tones to something less confrontational or even agreed to give each other space to cool down, but in the heat of the moment, few people had the presence of mind to see where their anger and resentment was taking them. Words that might never surface from one person’s subconscious on a normal day seemed to float easily to the top, buoyed by ire, and tripped off the tongue without censure or forethought.

Christina’s arms crossed the front of her body and every muscle seemed to freeze in place. “Oh, and you feel hard done by, do you? Poor thing, your girlfriend trusts you enough to confide in you and wants to have sex with you. How tortured you must feel!”

Thomas rolled his eyes. Was he supposed to be placated by sex just because he was a guy? Was he not allowed to have other concerns? “I’d be happy to listen to you confide your feelings - your hopes, or fears. Anything. But at the moment you’re just complaining about all the things you think are trivial and don’t want to bother with. We’re in this together, as a family, yet you act like you’re the only one under pressure. We’re supposed to be partners. You told me as much when we were broken up and I made an effort to stop over protecting you. Now, it’s your turn to do a bit of self-reflection.”

“Or,” she replied hotly. “It’s time for us to have another break!” With regret not yet worming around her stomach, and a head full of steam and obstinance, she stood her ground.

Though he felt the words like a knife in the gut, Thomas swallowed the pain and disappointment, instead resigning himself to the moment and throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “If you come to your senses, you know how to contact me.”

Without another word, he left the shop and disappeared upstairs. Christina remained standing by the cash register, knowing that she only had a few minutes to decide whether to swallow her pride or to accept that she had pushed away the one person who occasionally helped her to forget about her plight.

The problem was that she didn’t feel as if she was in the wrong. Time was too precious to be spending it eating fancy dinners and reminiscing with her mothers. They could do such things once Heracles was defeated and they were all safe again. Until the threat was no longer looming over their heads, they all needed to be preparing their defence and being ready to jump on any opportunity that arose to strike back.

Why was she the only one who seemed to understand this? Were the rest of her loved ones under the influence of another artefact? Even her brother, with whom she was normally so in tune, was almost relaxed about the horrors they’d been hearing – the war that was coming.

The sound of light footsteps on the stairs made her turn, but no effective desire to intervene moved her feet and she watched Thomas leave, the door clicking shut with deafening finality behind him. Only when she was alone did she let a tear escape.

* * * * *

_Christina was confused. A glare, which thus far had failed to elicit any hint of discomfort from her companion, dropped into a frown as the train doors opened and she remained in her sleeping world. Wasn’t this the moment that she was supposed to wake up?_

_Heracles stayed seated but gestured with a nod of his head, urging the young woman forward. CJ’s legs carried her to the threshold where she lingered with timid curiosity. At this point in her dreams, her companion usually disappeared into the crowd of commuters and she returned to reality. So, why was she still there? Was it possible for her to explore further and still wake up? Might her gamble in allowing these dreams finally be paying off, or did the heir have some alternate scheme to trap her here?_

_“Go ahead, dear,” his voice floated through the carriage, as if attuned to her thoughts. “Your path lies yonder.”_

_“This is a trick,” she accused and turned the glare back on._

_“And where would be the sense in that?” he teased lightly, playing with her insecurities._

_He’d become too good at that. Too accomplished at recognising her weaknesses and poking at them so they festered. The spark of excitement fizzled away as she realised how easily he was able to read her. Gone was any hope of learning more from these encounters – she and Claudia needed to step up their efforts to find a way to block the enemy from invading her subconscious._

_Again, she turned her eyes on the world beyond the carriage and examined the apparition before them. A rocky, snow-speckled path led towards distant mountain peaks. A crisp, azure sky lit the few patches of green that dared the wintery scene. It was breath-taking and somehow, familiar. Her eyes traced the route to a steeper climb and fixated on a point high up. She’d been there. In another dream. Death waited for her there._

_“Bones of the past and future await your presence,” Heracles’ voice whispered suddenly in her ear. He chuckled dryly as Christina jumped back, and hovered until she relaxed again. “Go ahead. Test your mettle, young one.” A haughty expression fell over his features as he stared out at the scene. “My father will have you wait until you have no choice. He will let you back yourselves into a corner before he instructs you to retaliate.” Ice-blue turned back to the young woman. “Are you willing to drag your heels until it is too late?"_

_Hovering on the edge of the doorway, Christina considered her options. This was her dream, so why shouldn’t she explore? She didn’t trust his motives or advice; he was trying to manipulate her somehow. She needed to figure out exactly what his end game was and knowledge could only help her to that end. Right? She hesitated and scrutinised his expression. He didn’t seem desperate for her to leave, merely curious to know which path she would choose._

_It was too risky, she decided eventually. Who knew what would happen once she stepped from the train? Who knew what waited for her atop that mountain? With a hard look at her challenging companion, she pushed the button that would close the doors and returned to her seat. Her keen eyes missed the smirk that followed her but couldn’t fail to see the package that appeared where she’d sat._

_The curiosity she’d smothered just moments ago came back to her in a rush and she flicked the lid on the box. A lasso? She reached in to inspect it further and immediately recognised the coiled leather - a whip. The symbolism was lost to her but as she turned her gaze back on the heir, she caught recognition and… fear? Or was it concern?_

_Her gaze flicked between his fallen stoicism and the mark of slavery in her hands. “You know what this is,” she guessed. “Or whose it is.”_

_Heracles shook off his momentary lapse and straightened. “It is a common tool used by slavers for ‘encouragement’,” he told her bitterly, surprising the young woman at last._

_“You hold no love for slavers?”_

_“That surprises you?”_

_“The thralls under your influence gave me an entirely different impression of your character.”_

_“The people who flock to my cause believe that they are helping to eliminate the things that they find inconvenient in society. Such as equality for women… and homosexuality.”_

_“So, your claim on the Warehouse is entirely altruistic?” Christina challenged, not convinced but admittedly surprised by this admission. He obviously knew which of her buttons were the most effective when pushed._

_Cold determination narrowed in on the young woman as Heracles met the challenge. “I witnessed the birth of the Warehouse. I was involved in its conception. I have watched as numerous men and women pawed at its contents for their own selfish means. Your mother included. I alone understand the great weight of responsibility that must be shouldered. I alone deserve to shoulder that burden.” His voice rang clearly even as it faded into the distance and the connection eventually came to an end._

The moment she woke, Christina knew that she’d been dreaming with Heracles a good deal longer than usual. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and her limbs were trembling as if she’d been lifting weights and performing squats for hours. She recalled every second of her conversation with the heir and despite her better judgement, she was already mulling over his words.

As she stripped the sheets off the bed and then stepped into the shower, she tried to shake off the residual effects of sharing her dreamscape. For several minutes, she wrestled with the desire to call her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend and fall into his arms for a while, but eventually she pushed the thought away. Despite believing that she was pointing her energies in the right direction, she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for the things she’d said to Thomas and for how they had ended things a couple of days before.

_Sacrifices must be made,_ she told herself coolly. In the back of her mind she tried to find the detached resolve that she’d seen in her enemy’s eyes, convinced now that only that would give her the strength to do what was necessary for her family. It wasn’t an easy conviction to keep a hold of though and after some deliberation, Christina blew out a lungful of vexation and picked up her phone.

Either pride or shame held her back from pushing the speed dial for the man she loved, but knowing that she needed to talk to someone, she scrolled through her phonebook and tapped another smiling face. After just two rings, the line connected and she sighed with relief.

_“Chrissy!”_ the voice on the other end cried with joy. _“It’s about damn time!”_

Christina felt that now familiar pang of guilt as she took the light reprimand, knowing that she had avoided this call for too long. _Just like Thomas said._ She shook the feeling off and took comfort from the sound of her best friend’s voice. “Hey, Addy. How’s things?”

Much to the young champion’s relief, they fell effortlessly into small talk about Adelaide’s job and Darwin’s antics, both managing to bring smiles to her features and helping her to forget for a moment that dark days dotted the horizon. Both knowing that the lightness couldn’t last, Christina allowed the conversation to turn in her direction.

_“So, how’re your moms?”_ the young mother asked gently.

“You know them,” Christina answered with an eye roll that her friend couldn’t see. “They keep busy. Freddy graduated with honours and Cat’s still a pain in the bum.”

_“You know, you’re not giving me much to go on here if you want me to believe that everything’s ok.”_ She heard Christina grumbling to herself and chuckled. _“Come on, you knew I wasn’t going to listen to your BS when you called me, so tell me what’s up.”_

“Everything,” Christina replied and proceeded to lay all of her grievances on the line. With a lot of patient hmm-ing from her listener, she managed to vent all of the issues she’d had to keep to herself since Thomas had left. _Maybe I have been taking him for granted,_ she thought as she finished.

_“I knew that whole deal with the suicides had to be connected to the Warehouse,”_ Adelaide began. _“You must be scared of what’s coming,”_ she added softly.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Christina argued, thinking of all the night time encounters she had under her belt now.

_“No, but I’ll bet you’re afraid of what might happen before you have a chance to face him,”_ the young mother added.

“They don’t understand what I’m trying to do,” she iterated for what felt like the thousandth time.

_“Oh, CJ – they do,”_ Adelaide insisted.

Since she didn’t want to start an argument, the Victorian changed the subject again and steered them towards summer plans (assuming they were still around by then to enjoy it). She was going to kick Heracles’ arse, so there was no reason to believe that they wouldn’t be.

When she eventually hung up, she instantly wished that she hadn’t called at all. She didn’t blame her friend for having a difference of opinion but it was yet another example of someone she loved who couldn’t see things from her point of view. It seemed increasingly clear that she was alone in her endeavour. Like her journey back through time, her decade in the bronze and the century she’d spent in Limbo.

Her trip back to 2015 had been the loneliest time. She still recalled the feeling of seeing her Mum for the first time in the past and wanting to run straight into her arms. Instead, she’d had to use all of her fighting skills to subdue the inventor and create the artefact that ultimately took her there in the first place. It hurt her head just to think about that first big mission and the pressure she’d been under to succeed. Would any of them be alive now if she’d failed? Her Mama could not have travelled to 1890 without that artefact and without a daughter to mourn for, Helena Wells might never have made it to the twenty-first century.

Some days, the weight of that thought dragged her down for hours. Not because she wondered about her none existence, but because it made her all the more aware of how much there was to lose if Heracles’ took control of the Warehouse and finally wielded the power he’d been seeking for centuries. If that happened, her life would be forfeit and all of that effort lost.

For the rest of the evening, Christina buried herself in research – Meghan’s notebooks and papers lying scattered all over her desk. Her latest dream with Heracles played on her mind; there was something about the expression on his face when he’d seen that whip – some connection that she was missing – and a gut feeling told her that the answer was somewhere amongst the research she’d already read. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that she finally hit upon something that caught her attention.

It was an unfinished profile of a woman whom Meghan had identified as the heir’s second in command. There was a rough sketch that the dead agent had either commissioned or drawn herself and a log of activities that she’d kept track of. There were obvious gaps, but for at least a year, Meghan had been hot on the commander’s heels. The whip reappeared in her mind’s eye when her gaze landed on the drawing and she considered the prominent scar on the etched and serious features.

A stone dropped heavily into her stomach as Heracles’ riddle suddenly became clear. ‘ _Bones of the past and future await your presence.’_ **Her** stolen bones. The path he’d pointed her to stood out in her mind and again she wished that she hadn’t been so cautious in her dream – that path would have showed her exactly where to search for the commander next. All was not lost though; there were clues that she could draw on for her pursuit; the scene from the train doors had a very distinctive feel and she knew that it wouldn’t take her long to figure it out once she was rested and had time to narrow down the possibilities.

Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling and replayed the conversation with her best friend. She missed Adelaide. So many years spent looking to the future and concerning herself with survival had stripped her of the carefree moments she allowed herself as a child. Those adventures shared with her Mum’s surrogate daughter were some of her best memories of childhood and whenever she stopped to contemplate her life, she often wished that she could return to that time and live it again.

The nostalgia plagued her wakeful thoughts until the faintest light touched the horizon and a new day threatened to begin. Slumber only came for her when she turned to land her gaze on a photo of her parents, who were sharing one of their frequent mushy moments in a gilded frame beside her bed. In that moment of staring at their beatific smiles, she relented and made a promise to set a date for dinner the following evening.

If she couldn’t sleep and her brain needed time to connect the dots of her investigation, then she might as well spend a few hours with her family.

* * * * *

Myka’s expression drifted sporadically between fond memories of the last few hours and mild concern whenever she glanced up at the door to the en-suite. It was still early in the evening, but she was dressed in the usual shorts and vest combo that she wore to bed, her hair fell about her shoulders, still air-drying from the shower she’d taken almost an hour ago, and she hummed softly to an earworm that had been with her all day. The air smelled of the body lotion that she was currently applying to her legs and the scent of shampoo that had followed her from the bathroom. Just another typical end to a day in the life of Helena and Myka Wells-Bering.

While moisturising, she took some time to massage her calves, working the muscles in the way she always did when she had a heavy day of exercise. Though she was in good shape, she couldn’t help but be more aware of her advancing age and strove to do everything in her power to maintain her body’s performance. Like any weapon or machine, she had to keep it in tip top condition if she wanted it to work well when she needed it most.

Her wife was of the same mind – both of them understanding the potential consequences for their family if they became lazy and weak. During all the years that they’d been together, they’d challenged one another and pushed for that extra mile, but nothing compared to the efforts of the last few weeks. Knowing that the battle was finally marching towards their doorstep, they’d upped the ante and not a day went by when they didn’t work to be stronger, faster… better.

Myka thought of the sparring session they’d had that afternoon and worried her lip. It had only taken a moment – a mere second of distraction – for one of them to slip and get hurt. They’d been practising with the foils, their bond closed so that there was less chance of telegraphing their moves to each other, when Myka had decided to try something new. As if pulling inspiration from a dream, she suddenly saw them fighting against their foes, and wondered how they would handle knowing that their partner was hurt or in trouble. Impulsively, she summoned the panic and fear she’d known on the many occasions and without warning forced it towards Helena.

The reaction was immediate. The inventor hesitated mid-parry and failed to block her opponent’s forward thrust. Myka’s attack flew right passed her defence and jabbed into the light padding of her right side, glancing sharply off her ribs. Helena had recovered swiftly and retaliated with a flurry, but it had effectively demonstrated how vulnerable they were to strong, unexpected emotions. It was something they needed to address if they were going to avoid getting each other hurt during combat.

After clearing all of the equipment away, they cooled down and then jumped in the shower. With Fredrick staying at a the Lattimers’ place for the night and Cat tinkering with her bike in the garage, the house was quiet. Myka finished her routine of personal care and settled against the headboard, pulling her laptop from the night stand once she felt comfortable. When the bathroom door eventually opened, emitting wisps of steam, she looked up from her book-keeping and searched for any hint of pain on her wife’s face.

Catching the scrutiny, Helena smiled and made her way to Myka’s side of the bed. The laptop closed with a soft click and found itself tucked once more out of the way while Myka’s keen fingers explored beneath a cotton robe, searching for injuries. The inventor allowed the invasion of her personal space and took advantage of the opportunity to study the face she adored. Round, dark-rimmed glasses sat on the younger regent’s nose, offering a look that never failed to excite carnal desires, and wild hair fell over defined shoulders, willing elegant hands to reach up and brush it back.

“Helena? Are you listening to me?” Myka’s sharp yet amused tone broke through HG’s thoughts.

“Hmm?” Dark eyes rose to meet green and a grin pulled at the inventor’s mouth. “Sorry, darling – I was distracted. Do continue.”

Myka rolled her eyes as a faint blush crept along her chest and neck. “I was asking – do your ribs hurt at all? We were going at it pretty hard.” She watched as her wife’s gaze darkened and she swallowed passed the sudden tingling in her throat. “Really, Helena?” she admonished half-heartedly.

The Victorian shrugged, unabashed by the obvious direction of her thoughts. “You cannot blame me for allowing my attentions to wander when you are so enticing,” she offered in her defence.

“Would I be less distracting if I were out of sight? Perhaps I should get under the covers?” Myka suggested.

“Perhaps you should,” HG responded eagerly.

Myka tutted. “Behave.” She leant forwards and slipped a hand around the back of her wife’s neck to pull her into a quick kiss. As she retreated, she whispered, “Later. Right now, I want to examine your wound.”

“It’s nothing, love,” the inventor protested, even as she moved so that her partner could push her robe aside for a closer look.

Myka prodded gently at a slowly purpling area and noted a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t know why you insist on pretending to be invulnerable. You at least need to ice it,” she concluded and poked a little harder, proving her point when the older regent gasped. “I’m going to go and get some.” She returned from the kitchen a few minutes later and passed a home-made sling at her wife. Designed to wrap around the body, it had a pocket on one side for an ice-pack and sat snugly over Helena’s t-shirt and ribs once she put it on.

“Satisfied?” HG asked cheekily and shuffled over the bed to prop herself up against the headboard. While Myka was downstairs, she’d changed into her sleepwear and where she could bend without pain, she’d finished her evening ablutions.

“For now,” the brunette replied and crawled over the bed to steal another quick kiss.

Green sparkled as it gazed into brown and soft crows-feet gathered around Myka’s eyes as she paused a moment to appreciate her wife. It dawned on her occasionally that without Helena she wasn’t sure that she would have the strength to stay positive and patient in the face of their struggles. Perhaps that went both ways, but she was certain that she would be a nervous wreck by now, and a recluse who was unable to appreciate life as death loomed ever closer. This latter thought brought her eldest daughter to mind and the sparkle faded from her eyes.

“Christina called while you were in the shower,” Myka began, her hands falling to join with Helena’s. She squeezed slightly and wove their fingers together.

HG’s expression filled with tentative hope. Over the last few years – since Fredrick’s abduction and Myka’s memory loss – their eldest had sunk deeper and deeper into her own private agenda; a singular mission of self-appointed martyrdom. The severity of the young warrior’s immersion had not become apparent until very recently and since Claudia’s announcement that Heracles was finally on the warpath, she had almost entirely isolated herself. Naturally, her parents were worried and over the last couple of weeks they’d tried fruitlessly to bring her home.

Myka didn’t need an answer to know the next question on Helena’s mind. “She’s coming over for dinner tomorrow. Thomas won’t be coming with her.”

Helena sighed. “It is as we suspected then. I wish that she would talk to us.” Adelaide had called her earlier in the day to ask how everybody was, giving the inventor the impression that the young American had already spoken to her daughter.  “I despise thinking that we have been unaware of her needs for so long.”

“She’s a grown woman, Helena. We can’t force our will on her, no matter how much we think she might need it. We just have to keep reminding her that we’re here when she needs us and trust that she can pick herself back up when she falls.” Myka felt a sudden chill run the length of her body and swung her legs under the covers. HG followed suit and she cuddled closer. “I don’t like watching her struggle any more that you do. Some lessons in life can only be learnt through experience though.”

“I don’t want to lose her again,” Helena whispered against her wife’s head and closed her eyes to will away the fear that pulled sharply at her insides.

“I know. Neither do I.”

They sat close for several minutes, each comforting and reassuring the other through touch and thought. Embracing uncertainty was a lesson that they would always struggle to accept. Surely very few people had the force of mind to package their thoughts neatly in a box when the imagination caught fire and ran wild with worry. Helena and Myka had tried a variety of distractions and coping techniques over the years, from meditation to sky-diving, yet nothing could rid them completely of their fears. While their loved ones were in potential danger, they would always strive to defeat whatever threat faced them. The only recourse in those circumstances was to channel their anxious energy into something more productive.

The real challenge came when there was nothing new left to prepare – when they were left twiddling their thumbs and waiting. This cold-war with Heracles was the ultimate test in patience and resilience. It was no wonder that Christina was digging doggedly into every dead or loose end; she hadn’t yet learned that you couldn’t bludgeon through every obstacle in your way.

“Sometimes I long for the days when she was a know-it-all teen.” Helena commented wistfully.

“I assume you mean, when she had a curfew and we had control over how much information she was privy to?” Myka added, her mind happily picturing the young woman in Cat’s place.

HG nodded but decided to let the topic slide; they could chew over it all night and it wouldn’t change anything. It was yet another example of uncertainty that they had to take one day at a time. “Speaking of teens, did you check in on Catherine?”

“Yes, she’s up to her elbows in grease, so I set the alarm on her phone for eight. That should give her enough time to be washed and in bed by nine.” The younger regent replied.

“Good, that should give us a little time to ourselves,” the inventor noted and turned to nuzzle Myka’s neck suggestively.

“You need to leave the ice on a bit longer,” the brunette replied and laughed as she tried to fend off the Victorian with a hand against her chest. The action lacked effort though and she sighed with pleasure as a pair of lips travelled a path along her collar.

Helena took the subtle signs of encouragement and began to find all the places that would render her wife’s mind blank. “Extremes in temperature can be stimulating.”

“Mm-hm,” Myka responded and twisted until she was straddling Helena’s lap, welcoming the hands that settled on her legs. “You still need to take it easy. Let yourself recover from yet another defeat,” she teased. “But maybe you do need some practise in learning how not to be distracted by me.”

“You chose that moment to for underhand tactics simply because I was up by points and you feared that I would best you at last,” HG teased, knowing her wife’s pride over being the undefeated fencer in the family.

“I did not,” Myka retorted, her eyes narrowed. “It was spur of the moment. You’re just getting old and losing your touch,” she provoked, knowing exactly how the inventor would interpret her words.

Playing into her wife’s hands, HG ran her fingers along strong thighs, over loose shorts and let them fall on twin hips. “If you truly believe that then you are being quite reckless; can you imagine what you are doing to my blood pressure right now?”

“I should check your pulse then,” Myka replied and reached for one of her wife’s hands. She lifted it to her mouth and brushed her lips over the inside of her wrist. “It _is_ a little fast, but I don’t think you’re in danger yet,” she said and placed an open-mouthed kiss lower on the inventor’s arm. “Let’s see if we can speed it up,” she added and brushed silver-streaked hair from her wife’s neck so she could continue her ministrations there.

Before long, there were fingers lost in hair and lips dancing hotly against one another. HG gasped as eager hands removed first the strap holding the ice-pack and then began to tug her t-shirt higher. Within the following five minutes or so they probably could have been naked and buried under the covers but a sharp rapping on the bedroom door ripped them from their heated embrace and Myka allowed the inventor’s top to fall back into place.

“Damn,” she breathed before scrambling back to her own side of the bed and directing her next words to the door. “Come in, Cat!”

“Hey, Mum, is it too late to crank up the… wh-what’s going on here?” the teen wandered casually over the threshold before freezing. She looked between her mothers – though completely dressed and appearing casual, both wore expressions of mischief. “Oh God, you’re making out aren’t you.” She turned swiftly on her heels and disappeared with a muttered, “Gross!”

Helena shot a look at her wife before a giggle escaped her. Myka’s signature blush rose rapidly to her ears and confusion coloured her expression. Green eyes scanned each of them and the surrounding area but could find nothing immediately incriminating.

“How did she know?” she whispered, mostly to herself.

“She’s fifteen, darling. We could have been knitting and she would have made the same leap.” Helena slipped out of bed and picked up her robe. “I am going to check on our traumatised child. You…” She paused and looked longingly back at the American. “Don’t go anywhere,” she winked and disappeared, leaving the brunette shaking her head.

* * * * *

Dinner was an awkward affair the next day, consisting of long silences and forced spurts of conversation, and Catherine alternatively frowned and glared at the reason for the solemn hour: her sister. Christina had joined them reluctantly, ignoring all inquiries into Thomas’ absence and proceeded to sulk all the way through their meal. Freddy seemed to be absorbed in his twin’s bad mood and their parents conversed in their private language of glances and telepathy. This left the youngest alone in her thoughts and after recently being incarcerated in the house, banned from leisure activities and relegated to folding laundry, she was not impressed with the turn of events.

Her sister had been making excuses for the last few weeks over why she couldn’t come for dinner. The anticipated joy in having Christina home disappeared quickly when it became clear that the young woman would rather be elsewhere. When their plates were cleared, Catherine declined dessert and excused herself for the table. She made her way up to the attic and slumped despondently into a beanbag.

The attic still held some evidence that it had once been a bedroom to the eldest Wells-Bering offspring. A poster of some teen heart-throbs hung a little crookedly on the far wall, a chest of drawers that fell out of use and was now stuffed with board games sat abandoned, a giant bear – that Christina’s short-lived romance with a high-school friend had earned her – leant drunkenly in another corner, and Cat; the sister who had apparently out lived her use and now belonged amongst the rejected past, lay and stared at the apex of the roof.

It was the Warehouse that was pulling her family apart – the stupid Warehouse and its stupid artefacts. Christina was so absorbed in their so-called destiny that it was all she could think about and she was allowing her mission to take over her life. What was the point in any of it if they didn’t have a family to fight for?

As Cat stewed in her thoughts, she could hear distant movement around the house. Dinner was apparently over and her parents were probably delegating jobs to get the debris cleared away quicker. The teen thought about her chores and the probable consequences of shirking them and stubbornly decided that she didn’t care what her moms made her do so long as she didn’t have to suffer through any more uncomfortable silences. At the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs to the first floor and then more footsteps on the steps to the attic, she groaned to herself and prepared her defence.

It wasn’t either of her mothers whose eyes peered across the floor though and Cat rolled hers at the annoyed expression that sought her out. “I’m not going back down there,” she said immediately and held her breath for the retort.

Christina copied the eye-roll and stomped up the remaining steps into her old bedroom. “I dragged myself here to make Mum and Ma happy, and now you’re making them unhappy. Just stop it with the tantrums and go dry the dishes already,” she huffed with exasperation.

She was tired after the previous night’s unwelcome dream and not the least bit prepared to entertain her spoilt sister’s unruly behaviour. _I don’t have time for this,_ she complained inside, letting her frustration build. Almost from the moment she’d arrived, she’d regretted letting Adelaide talk her into coming home. Every second that she sat at the table, not tasting her food and trying to make conversation, was a second wasted. Why couldn’t they see that they didn’t have time to play happy families? Heracles wasn’t sat around talking about the weather, she was sure. No, he was probably giving orders to his generals to move into place and prepare to attack. He was probably already on their doorstep, and they were busy washing dishes!

Her mind took her back to her dream that morning and the opportunity she’d been given to find out more. She regretted allowing fear to hold her back – there had been so much to explore in her dreamscape and she’d chickened out.

After a moment’s thought, Christina pulled the door closed behind her and turned her frustration on the teen. “You know what?” she began in little more than a whisper. “You keep going on about not wanting to be treated like the baby in the family and then you do this. Well, I’m fed up of defending you! There are serious problems that need to be addressed and our mothers are spending all their time pandering to your moods,” she hissed.

“ _My_ moods!?” Cat cried as she jumped up. “I came up here to get away from _your_ mood. Mum and Ma have been trying to get you to visit for weeks, but since you got here, all you’ve wanted to do is leave!”

The elder sister huffed. “You think that just running off will make your problems go away? Some of us are actually trying to fight back!”

“Avoid the point much?” the teen huffed back. “What exactly was I supposed to do? Pretend you’re the princess you apparently think you are, or start an argument at the dinner table?” When no immediate answer was forthcoming, Cat leaped out of her bean-bag and stood tall. “Don’t blame me ‘cause you’re stuck on the idea that you have some great destiny. You think you can treat me like crap, forget that I even exist ‘cause you think you’re on a mission to save the world? You’re just the Warehouse’s trained attack dog; the world doesn’t revolve around you!”

Christina felt the blow of every word and, like with Thomas, her head filled with steam and she saw red before her compassionate side could react. Guilt, reflection and regret would come later, but before then she knew she was going to explode. “You have no idea what I’ve given up so that I can protect you and the rest of our family. You think your world is so hard because you’re being ‘babied’?” she emphasised with air-quotes. “Maybe you’ll actually be needed when you’re not being such a brat!”

As if she knew that she’d said too much – gone too far – Christina felt the need to flee and climbed down from the attic. She almost ran downstairs and out the front door in her haste, desperate to be away from the accusations and observations of her little sister.

She drove back to the city, back to her sanctuary, on autopilot and before she realised it, she was standing over the desk in her study, examining the last few paper’s she’d been reading the previous night. She could hear Heracles’ voice taunting her from across the realm between the sleeping world and the waking one; what was taking her so long? Why hadn’t she figured this puzzle out already? And suddenly, it hit her like an anvil. The Warehouse. The place in her dream – the path that led through snow and rock – it led to the Warehouse and that was where the heir’s second in command was lying in wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! I was quite glad while writing this that I only have a brother to argue with. All of our problems were worked out sensibly... with Sumo wrestling!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the guessing, peeps!

Catherine sat on the swing, kicking up the dirt again as she agonised over the argument with her sister. She wanted to believe that Christina was simply being stroppy and arrogant, but the churning in her stomach told her that there was more to this situation and that she felt guilty for her responses. For perhaps the first time in her life, she wanted to see herself through someone else’s eyes. She had an uncomfortable feeling that there was some truth to the way everyone in her family insisted on restricting her involvement in adult business.

Maybe she did need to stop and think before making decisions. She acted on instinct usually and her hot head often got her into trouble. Her Mum sympathised with her she knew – probably because she was a hellraiser in her own youth – but maybe there was room for improvement? Was that what it took to be ‘grown-up’?

On top of worrying about her sister’s whereabouts and feeling responsible for Christina’s sudden disappearance, she was still agonising over her feelings for Andi and confused about her best friend Jake’s recent, weird behaviour. Ever since she’d sneaked over to her great-grandparents’ house to crash their meeting, Jake had barely spoken to her and when he did, he seemed awkward and uncomfortable. She couldn’t work it out. She had thought briefly about asking her brother, wondering if it was just a boy thing, but Fredrick was working with Steve and Pete and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to ask either of her mothers.

As if summoned by Catherine’s stray thought, Myka appeared from the back of the house and made a beeline for the picnic area where the swing set remained as the last relic of childhood. The regent hovered at a distance until the teen stopped kicking up the dirt, and then moved to the second swing once it had settled.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” Myka asked as she kicked off and started a gentle pendulum. For a couple of minutes, they swung beside each other in silence and the regent waited for her daughter to find the words to respond.

Eventually, Catherine shrugged and skidded to a stop. “I made her run away, didn’t I?”

“Oh, Cat,” Myka began. She brought herself to a more controlled stop and reached across to squeeze the girl’s shoulder. “You are not responsible for the decisions your sister makes. She’s been under a lot of pressure – as we all have – and whatever set her off on her current path has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, but,” she huffed. “Stuff was said and now she’s gone. You – master sleuth – can’t tell me that those two things aren’t related.”

“Relation between evidence doesn’t necessarily point to cause and effect,” the regent objected and offered a small smile in compensation. “Siblings fight. With the age difference I’m guessing that it was about you wanting to be more involved and Christina wishing she was less involved.”

“Less involved?” Cat frowned. “I thought she wanted to be in charge of everything. She’s always bossing people around!”

“I’m sure it seems that way to you. Cat, do you really think your sister is enjoying her position of responsibility?” Myka prodded as she observed the teen. “Much as your mother and I are proud of her, we despair at _her_ stubbornness just as much as _yours_. She’s taken this whole destiny thing to heart and now she thinks that she is the only one who can win this fight.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she thinks she’s above everyone else,” Cat insisted bitterly.

“No, sweetheart,” the mother argued kindly. “It’s because she’s afraid to do less. Afraid that if she stops then she will miss something vital and one of us will get hurt. She’s trying to carry the world and it’s crushing her.”

Catherine gazed at the regent, her hazel eyes growing glassy with gathering tears. “She’s an idiot,” she spoke croakily.

Myka leant over to brush a kiss against her daughter’s forehead and smiled through her own gathering tears. “We’re all idiots sometimes. It’s just part of the human condition. Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

They both knew that those words were just platitudes. Christina wouldn’t be found until she wanted to be or until it was too late to help, but Cat nodded anyway. “Sure.”

Silence settled over them once again and they each rocked absentmindedly for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Myka eventually refocussed on her daughter and considered the maternal instinct that had been niggling at her since Catherine hit puberty. She and Helena were certain that it had something to do with a crush, but after handling two other teenagers and their unpredictable hormones, Helena was sensitive to timing and cautioned patience. Since they both needed a distraction, the regent decided that there was no time like the present to prod.

“So, what’s going on with you lately?”

An expression of panic suffused the youngster’s face for a few seconds before she absorbed her mother’s gentle smile and relaxed. Her gaze fell to the ground and she drew swirls in the dirt with her shoe as she searched for the words to answer. “How do you know…”

Myka waited, but when words seemed to fail the teen, she tried to lighten the mood, “…When to open a window?”

Cat chuckled, recalling her early attempts to write her own jokes. “When Freddy’s been eating beans and you smell gas.”

They both laughed for a few moments – less for the quality of the joke and more for the camaraderie. “Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything, right? Even if you think I won’t like it.”

“I know, Ma,” Cat nodded. “I just… It’s just…” She squirmed and trailed off.

“About icky grownup feelings and talking about it with your mother is super awkward?” the regent tried again.

The teen blushed. “Yeah,” she relented. “How did you know that Mum liked you – like romantically?”

It was Myka’s turn to blush and she coughed into her hand to give her a second to think. “Well, your mother has never been subtle when it comes to… wooing. There was no mistaking her intentions once she had it in her head that she wanted more than a platonic relationship with me.”

“Gross,” Cat muttered and then sighed.

Sensing that her daughter was close to giving up, the regent tried to imagine what she would have wanted to hear if the tables were turned. “I’d like to tell you that there’s a sure-fire way of knowing that your feelings are reciprocated, but there really isn’t. Some people, like Helena, don’t worry about the possibility of being rejected. They just focus on what they want, which makes them appear confident. But for most people, I think telling someone that you’re attracted to them is daunting. So maybe this person you like, likes you back but hides it well, or maybe they’re not interested – romantically at least. At the end of the day, sweetheart, opening yourself up to someone is a guarantee that you will get hurt at some point. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they won’t help you to a place where you’re happy.” She shrugged knowing that her advice was not the infallible solution that her daughter wanted. “Some people you date might just end up being good practise for the one you eventually choose to share your life with.

“Just remember – if it turns out that this person doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, that doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you.” She placed a hand beneath the girl’s chin and tilted it up. “You are beautiful and unique, inside and out. You just need the right person to see it.”

“Better nobody than the wrong somebody,” Cat said with surprising understanding. At the astonished admiration on her mother’s face, she shrugged. “Chrissy told me that when she broke up with Adnan. And Tommy – the first time. I guess she knows what she’s talking about sometimes.”

Myka smiled lovingly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such wonderful children,” she said and leaned across to wrap her arms around her daughter.

Catherine protested, prompting her mother’s arms to hold more fiercely and they grappled for several seconds, dissolving into giggles. It was a much-needed reprieve from the heavy air that had settled on the house, even if it couldn’t last long. The sound of the kitchen door caught both of their attention and the pair looked up to find HG strolling across the lawn. Myka squeezed her daughter one last time before giving her full attention to her wife.

“Do we have anything?” she asked hopefully.

“Possibly. Claudia would like for us to meet her at the shop.” Dark, apologetic eyes met hazel and she smiled at her daughter. “Love, you’re welcome to join us, but Freddy is staying here if you’d prefer to be at home.”

Cat looked between her parents, feeling torn. Here they were, handing her the thing she’d been asking for, and all she could think about was seeing Andi and trying to work out whether she had a shot. “Jake’s been bugging me about going to the mall. Maybe Andi wants to go too.”

Helena nodded and pulled the teen into a hug. “Go, enjoy time with your friends. Fredrick is willing to be your personal chauffeur, so make the most of it.”

The girl rolled her eyes but smiled in understanding. “Translated to ‘don’t go anywhere alone’, I got it Mum.”

“Good girl,” the inventor praised with relief. “We will return tonight, but it could be very late so don’t wait up,” she added, her tone serious.

Catherine worried her lip, making her appear much like her Mama. She had had every intention of staying awake to hear news of her sister but she was slowly learning how to compromise and realised that an argument was the last thing anyone needed at this point in time. “Will you wake me up when you get home?”

Helena considered the request, exchanged a glance with her wife and relented with a smile. “Very well. Try not to torture your brother too much,” she winked and kissed her daughter’s forehead before taking her wife’s hand and returning to the house.

* * * * *

Ribs aching and bruised; lacerations spread sporadically over her arms and face; Christina knelt beside the edge of an overhang and stared down at the crumpled and bloody figure that lay broken far below her. A strangled gasp escaped her throat. _I did it,_ she realised. _I killed her._  A strange and unexpected feeling grew in her chest until the reality of her actions hit her full-force. Her hands found her mouth just in time to stifle the sob that gripped her. Whether it was relief, regret, panic or a combination, her body shook for several minutes and she was on the verge of seeing her breakfast again before she managed to pull her emotions back under control.

However unintentional the end result, someone was dead and Christina was the reason for it. All of the years of research and anticipation and she had never really considered what ‘winning’ would mean for the losing side. Every best-case scenario always included detained adversaries, not deceased ones. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to begin processing this. She wasn’t even sure how she had made it to this point…

_Arriving in Alesund, Norway, barely nineteen hours after leaving her parents’ house, Christina stepped off the plane and gazed around. Only staying long enough at the shop to grab new supplies, she’d booked a redeye flight and hoped that her emergency kit would be enough to help with this impromptu mission. It was impulsive and fuelled by anger. Anger at her sister, her parents, Thomas and Claudia, but mostly at herself for failing to find anything that would cripple Heracles’ operations. This red mist should have been enough to warn her away from rash decisions or to at least give her pause long enough to come to her senses, but she’d had enough of waiting and second guessing. She was tired – drained of patience and burdened by problems that lacked solutions. Capturing Cassandra or even just foiling part of Heracles’ plan would be the release that she needed form the weight of the world._

_With her phone turned off and enough cash to not leave a digital trail, she knew that it would take a while before she was tracked. It would be barely midday in Colorado, so it was possible that her family had not yet discovered that she was missing, and she set off in her hire-car with the idea that she could be done with her mission before anyone had time to worry._

_Knowing the location of the Warehouse, she laid her map on the passenger seat and began to mark out the possible locations for Heracles’ general to set up camp. If she wanted to lay an ambush, she would have to be sensible about it. From the vision in her dream, she calculated the gradient of the land and the likelihood that the enemy would be there. Did it have a water supply, was it hidden from casual foot traffic, was it in easy reach of Warehouse 14, et cetera? When she’d narrowed her choices down to the best three, she picked the closest one and set off._

_After two hours of twisting roads and little but rock, ice and flora to find, she took a break to refuel. Her next two most likely choices were equidistant from where she sat and she mulled over her next move for several minutes. There was still time to back out – to tuck her tail between her legs and return home with a ready apology. Maybe it was pride or stubbornness, but almost as soon as the thought entered her head, she pushed it aside. She’d come this far and she was going to see it through._

_Going with her gut, she took the northerly site. The drive was not as long and she was sure she had the right place when her watch bleeped – indicating the presence of another human life. They were in the middle of nowhere, a mere mile from Warehouse 14 and in a secluded inlet surrounded by rocky hills. Only someone intent on disguising their presence or perhaps a hardened hermit would choose to live in such a place._

_Abandoning her car behind a boulder, Christina grabbed her gear and surveyed the area. As soon as her eyes hit on the snow-flecked path and sporadic patches of plant-life, she took off. It was just as it had been in her dream and a thrill of anticipation surged through her veins. Following the twisting path that stretched out before her, she trod lightly until she emerged abruptly from a crevice into a rough basin. Sparse foliage offered minimal cover for her advance and her gaze locked immediately onto a figure that stood, seemingly waiting for her. ‘So much for an ambush,’ she thought._

_“He told me you would come,” the commander greeted with a relaxed smirk. “And here you are.”_

_Feeling very stupid all of a sudden, Christina froze, the last forty-eight hours flashing before her eyes. Recovering quickly, she took a step forward and leaned on one hip. “He didn’t mention you,” she replied, her keen mind searching her adversary for a weakness._

_Cassandra scoffed and shook her head. “Oh child, you play with forces which you cannot comprehend. Regardless of what passes here today, He will prevail. You would do well to consider your allegiance.”_

_“Align with Heracles and abandon my family? Let them die?” The young champion felt the heat of anger run through her body and stood firmer. “I think not.”_

_“Death is not inevitable. In fact, you might be assured an exceedingly long life, for your family too, should you yield,” the commander tempted._

_Christina let the idea fill her and the part of her that had been overly concerned with survival did weigh the possibility for a moment, but the less emotional part of her tasted the corruption in the offer and she willed her mind back into focus. “They would not wish to be tethered to him for any price. Death_ is _inevitable. A life worth living is not guaranteed but I will do everything in my power to see they have that much. For them and the rest of humanity.”_

_“Foolish girl,” Cassandra chided. “For too long the Warehouse and its power has been chained and abused. He will set it free and humanity will finally have a chance to prosper. He will see to it that all men are treated as equal. With His hand on the wheel, none need fear the yoke of supremacy again.”_

_“That’s a lot to live up to,” the young woman replied, clearly unconvinced. “And to be frank, nothing that I’ve seen so far of your boss’ movements has given me the impression of benevolence.”_

_“The land must first be scorched before fertile ground is made,” the commander pushed._

_Christina rolled her eyes. “How convenient for him. I have often found an awful kind of humour in the absolutes that fanatics convince themselves of. Genocide for the greater good? You’ll say anything to further your cause.”_

_“He will be disappointed, though not overly surprised by your choice,” Cassandra noted with a careless shrug. She wasn’t sure why Heracles needed this impetuous speck of a girl, but he did need her and his instructions on the matter had been clear. Detained and unharmed were the words he’d used. If the Wells-Bering girl wouldn’t join them by choice then the commander knew what she must do. “A shame. You share his blood. You have the potential to be great. Even if coming here was impulsive and ultimately futile.”_

_Christina heard the distinct change in the commander’s voice as the ancient woman uttered those last few words. It reminded her of her brother whenever they would spar together and he was preparing an attack; his body would tense – ready to lunge – and the stress on his muscles reflected in a slightly higher pitch in his voice. She reacted instantly – leaping out of the way as the commander pulled a knife from her belt and threw it where her leg had just been. Another knife appeared in the woman’s hand in a blink of an eye, giving Christina little choice but to scramble again out of the way._

_Cassandra followed the girl’s path, her weapons marking their progress over rock and shrub. She’d sorely missed games of cat and mouse, and she intended to make the most of it while her prey still assumed that she was aiming to kill. She just needed the girl to wear herself out. In order to take her unharmed, she needed the upper hand and the best way to so that was to let her prey trip itself up._

_Christina scrambled over rocks and leapt over boulders and wished that she had stayed at home. Was she going to die, here, where no one would ever find her, leaving her family to forever wonder at her whereabouts? All of the time she’d spent lecturing her sister on the virtues of patience and careful planning and she’d made the very same fatal error. One straw too many and she dropped all of her carefully preserved principals for a suicide mission! She’d played right into Heracles’ hands and now everything she’d worked so hard for was lost._

_Time seemed all at once too fast and too slow as Christina allowed panic to consume her. Several seconds passed like minutes while she scraped her palms against prickly stems and knocked her elbows, ankles, and knees against jagged rocks. In her haste, she failed to realise that her assailant was not pushing the advantage and it wasn’t until she’d come almost full circle that her better cognitive functions struggled their way from beneath the heavy presence of despair. With sudden clarity, she skidded to a halt and ripped from the ground the first dagger that had flown her way._

_Christina turned to find Cassandra’s smirking presence close by and forced herself to take several calming breaths. Kicking herself for being so transparent, the young champion fought against the adrenaline flooding her system and reassessed the situation. Several daggers stuck in the ground, their shiny hilts catching photons and glittering malevolently. Now that she could think, it was obvious that she was being manipulated._

_“He doesn’t want you to kill me, does he?” she asked once she had her breath back._

_“I was given to understand that you are considered somewhat intelligent. Would that were true, you would have reached that conclusion sooner,” the older woman provoked._

_Straightening, the young woman choked out a laugh. Clarity hit her like an anvil. She knew so much and yet knew nothing. All of her mothers’ stories were full of morals and she thought she’d heeded them so well, but in the end, she’d allowed herself to get sucked into a trap of her own making. Irony, symmetry, poetry – it was beautiful in its own stupid way; the means she’d tried in order to shape her life only to have it thrown back in her face. When all things were considered, she was almost as much of a child as the fifteen-year-old that she’d argued with only the previous day._

_“You will not take me willingly,” she warned as she prepared to stand her ground. There were not many obvious exits from the hidden camp site and something instinctive told her not to try leaving from the way she’d entered. Still, she’d had plenty of practise in using the terrain to her advantage. What better time to put those skills to use?_

_Cassandra nodded and felt a nugget of respect as she witnessed the epiphany that flashed across the girl’s dark gaze. Perhaps her boss had good reason for wanting the Wells-Bering offspring after all. “I have to admit that I’m relieved – it has been so long since I faced a worthy opponent. I hope you are half as good a fighter as you are purported to be.”_

With a few measured breaths, Christina tore her gaze away from the corpse, climbed to her feet and began to assess her next move. The spot was isolated enough that her mess wouldn’t be stumbled upon by hikers – that was why Heracles had chosen it to begin with – but she knew that a team needed to clean up the evidence soon. She made a mental note to send a message to Claudia the moment she was on her way back to the States. Maybe their people could get to the job before Heracles.

The camp was small – the commander having apparently lived on the barest of necessities – so it didn’t take Christina long to scour the entire site for evidence of the bones removed from the grave of her eight-year-old doppelganger. Though she didn’t like to admit it to herself, she still felt unnerved by the desecration of her memory. As if her childhood was nothing but a tool that Heracles would use to hurt her. Knowing that a part of her – her skeleton – was in the hands of a maniac, it made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

Eventually, she had to admit defeat and once her own possessions were collected and packed back in the car, Christina tucked in behind the wheel and turned the engine over. The ride to the nearest hotel seemed to take no time at all and she made it to her room in a semi-daze. A shower cleansed her of the blood she’d hidden beneath her clothes and she managed to patch up the worst of her wounds before booking her flight home and grabbing a quick couple of hours sleep.

She expected the slew of messages the second she decided to switch her phone back on and hovered over the icon for several seconds before ignoring it altogether and sending a quick encrypted e-mail to the caretaker. There was going to be a fallout for the poor choices she’d made, regardless of her success or whether it helped their cause, but as her plane touched down in Denver once more, she couldn’t help finding comfort in the image of the commander’s body lying broken beneath her feet. It was one step closer to victory.

* * * * *

Helena and Myka sat at the kitchen table, in the apartment above the bookshop, with identical expressions of fury and betrayal. On the opposite side, Thomas appeared similarly upset and sat between the three, Claudia fidgeted on her seat and tried to remember that she was no longer the inexperienced kid she’d been when she first began working at the Warehouse. An uncomfortable silence stretched on until the young man jumped from his seat.

“Why wouldn’t she have told any of us? Jesus Christ, I slept next to her!” he fumed and paced. “How many times did she wake up from one of these ‘meetings’ and not tell me? Did she lie right to my face?”

All three women winced, knowing that this was an issue that would be difficult to work past if the young couple ever decided to patch things up. For Christina’s parents, the subject was doubly hard to swallow; memories of their own sensitive past tugged at frayed heartstrings, and they worried for their eldest child’s happiness.

There would be a time and a place to talk to the young man about his feelings and possibly help him to reach some sort of conclusion, but that time was not now. Myka could feel anger radiating off her wife and knew that it was up to her to follow up with more questions. As Claudia’s oldest friend amongst the three of them, it seemed somewhat more appropriate for her to confront the redhead.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked with barely a hint of the warmth she usually reserved for her friend.

Claudia sighed. More and more, she looked back on her life before the Warehouse and felt somewhat nostalgic for a simpler time. If that thought didn’t demonstrate how weird her life had become, she didn’t know what could. Since when did she start feeling sentimental about the nut house? “It was her decision to keep the meetings quiet,” she began in her own defence. “We agreed that she might be able to glean something useful from her little chats with Heracles – information that could tip the scales in our favour. The kid’s all grown up now – I can’t force her to tell you everything.”

HG opened her mouth to retaliate, but Myka stepped in, hoping to prevent the conversation from escalating into a full-blown argument. “We appreciate that, and I’m glad that Christina feels comfortable confiding in you – I would rather that than have her struggle through completely alone. I’m just concerned that your priorities have changed and you decided to take advantage of an opportunity without considering other options.”

Claudia’s face froze and then contorted comically with confusion. “Who’s with the what now!? My priorities are the same as yours. It’s not like I’ve crossed over to the dark side!”

“Claude, I didn’t mean to suggest that you don’t care…” Myka continued, trying to remain as objective as possible, but stopped as she felt her wife’s anger boiling over.

“The Warehouse is in your head, Claudia. You cannot deny that,” Helena pressed. “Did you even once encourage her to reject these ‘meetings’?”

The redhead stared at her friends as tears gathered in her eyes. “I was chosen for this,” she began hoarsely. “Just as you guys were. But I didn’t make that final decision to ‘let the Warehouse in my head’ without thinking about how much it could help _you_!” She stood abruptly and stabbed her fingers in irritation against the counter top. “Do you _really_ think I would jeopardise her safety? Getting us all out of this alive _is_ my priority!”

The regents watched their friend scrub a sleeve against her falling tears and then disappear from the kitchen. Helena’s eyes squeezed shut and she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Beside her, Myka let go of her professional, detached demeanour and tipped her head back to the ceiling, willing her own tears away. How had they gone from family, who loved and trusted one another, to colleagues who threw accusations around?

“I’ll go after her,” Thomas muttered and left before either woman could respond.

The couple swam through a baffling soup of emotions as they sat and worried. They’d made the trip to the shop to find answers and had little more than a growing list of questions. Never mind that their missing child was an adult who had the right to make her own decisions, however terrible they were. Parents didn’t automatically stop caring when their offspring flew the nest. No matter how old their children became, the regents could not help wanting to make sure that they were safe and happy. The effort put into making that happen didn’t always bring out the best in them.

“Did you have to be so hard on her?” Myka snapped once she and Helena were alone.

The inventor shot an incredulous look at her wife and scoffed. “Our daughter is missing, Myka! Probably because of something that monster taunted her with, and you’re worried that I hurt Claudia’s feelings!? She should know better.”

Myka sighed and rubbed a hand across her face. “She’s right though; she wouldn’t knowingly put Christina in danger.”

“You believe that?” Helena asked, allowing her anger to gather steam. “Regardless of her intentions when accepting the role of caretaker, we cannot know the effect it has had on her psyche or how that connection has manipulated her motivations since.”

Myka watched her wife stress and pace and did her best to calm her own thoughts in order to help. She understood the concerns but couldn’t imagine that Claudia would allow herself to be twisted so much away from who she was at her core. From what she understood of the process, becoming the caretaker was symbiotic; the best of the new caretaker joined with the best of all those previous. Claudia herself had explained that any desires from the Warehouse that conflicted with her own morals could be dismissed.

“I don’t think you truly believe that, Helena. That’s fear talking. I’m scared too, you know?” Myka pointed out firmly. She couldn’t afford to pussyfoot around when her wife was in one of these moods, but neither did she want to start an argument that would just end up wasting their time. “It’s not Claudia’s fault that Christina decided not to tell us about her shared dreams. Christina apparently feels like she has something to prove.”

Tears found their way passed the inventor’s wall of ire and flowed freely down her cheeks. “Idiot child,” she muttered without conviction. She sniffed and stiffened for a moment when Myka stood and approached her with open arms. “I don’t mean that either,” she whispered and then sagged as she fell into her wife’s embrace. They swayed for a short time, knowing that they really wanted to be busy finding their wayward child, but knowing that they needed a minute to gather themselves.

“My mom mentioned a while back that this is where I told her and Dad about you and Christina,” the brunette said as she broke the silence and then added, “You weren’t with me.”

“No,” HG replied softly. She recalled the pain she’d felt at the distance between her and her girlfriend. At the time, under the influence of the Inanna artefact and with Myka pregnant, she had felt every mile between them like a stabbing in her gut. Instinctively, she felt that her wife was trying to make a point by bringing up the topic. “I stayed at home.”

“Why?” Myka pushed.

Sighing, the inventor dragged her mind back almost two decades. “You wanted to go alone. You thought that it was something that you needed to do.”

The younger regent cracked a sad smile. “Does that sound like someone we know?”

“Can we not prevent our children from following in our footsteps?” HG asked futilely.

Greying curls shook around the younger regent’s head. “Nope. Our only recourse now is to offer advice and help them pick up the pieces.”

Helena nodded reluctantly before pulling away. “First we must find her.”

The regents found Claudia and Thomas in the study where Christina appeared to have spent the majority of her time since her boyfriend’s departure. The young man’s face was pale but a fixed expression of determination accompanied him around the room. The redhead avoided eyes contact with the two regents and blocked any attempt to engage her while they searched for clues of Christina’s whereabouts. She did feel partly responsible for enabling the young woman’s interactions with their enemy, but she had truly believed her protegee when promises were made regarding acceptable risks. _She_ was the injured party here too and didn’t deserve to be attacked over the situation.

After a few grunts and mono-syllabic answers, Claudia stumbled across a pile of papers that were well worn at the edges. Recognising Christina’s handwriting in the margins, she scanned through them before thrusting them in the inventor’s direction.

“I think these are what you’re looking for,” she remarked tonelessly. “I think Nancy Drew found her mark,” she added and allowed some of the worry she felt back into her expression.

Helena flicked through the notes while letting her wife look over her shoulder. She heard retreating footsteps and found just enough presence of mind to look up and halt the caretaker’s escape. “Claudia?” The redhead paused and turned a fixed expression on the Victorian. “Thank you,” she pleaded, an apology sitting on the tip of her tongue.

The caretaker chewed on the lump that sat in the back of her throat before nodding woodenly. “Sure,” she muttered, knowing that there were more important things to consider than her hurt feelings. “I’m gonna go check in at HQ. Buzz me if you need anything,” she added before leaving the couple to their search.

Without more information, the regents were forced to pack up and return home. They boxed up the folders that Christina had searched through last and piled them into the trunk of the car. They were just ten minutes from Boulder when their phones buzzed in an alarming way. Both women glanced at each other in horror before Myka put her foot down and sped towards home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a miserable, rainy day here today. Feel free to keep me company! ;-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very quiet out there this week. I hope the story's not getting too stagnant. Maybe this will shake things up...

A din of chatter surrounded Cat, drilling into her already tortured thoughts. Why had she decided to go to the mall? She could have stayed home and waited for news of her sister, or gone to Colorado Springs with her parents, but no, she’d deluded herself into thinking that things weren’t so bleak and that she could handle a simple crush.

Before she knew it, she was on the phone to Andi and mixing up all her words as she tried to extend an invite. Her friend’s enthusiastic response had given her hope – filled her with joy and the brief fantasy of stolen smiles and hands brushing accidentally-on-purpose passed each other. Her elation was short lived once they met up and the other girl’s intentions became clear however.

It was the last straw. Tearing her gaze away from the couple at the food-court table, Cat turned on her heel and fled in the opposite direction. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped at them furiously. Why couldn’t Andi like _her_? Why did it have to be Jake who caught the other girl’s attention? Love triangles were not nearly as comedic as they appeared on TV. Jake, who she’d always looked to like a second brother, had confessed that he had more than platonic feelings for her, and the girl that _she_ liked… loved… couldn’t keep her eyes off the charming Lattimer boy. It sucked big time and she felt like her insides were being torn apart.

After her argument with Christina, and the guilt she felt for having pushed her sister to take off on her own secret mission, she just needed someone to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be ok – even if she wouldn’t believe it.

She thought about going home. Would either of her friends even miss her if she hopped on the next bus and left them to their intimate conversation? Jake might. He would probably be worried too. It would serve him right for monopolising all of Andi’s attention!

“Urgh!” she grunted to herself and kicked at a stone, watching as it skittered along the pavement and bounced to a stop on the grass verge.

She couldn’t even be properly angry at her lifelong friend. No matter how much she envied his ability to capture and charm an audience, compared to her own awkward attempts, he had never invited or solicited Andi’s attention for more than friendship. She could hardly blame him for something that was out of his control, but the more she thought about his many admirers, the more she hated her own stupid body and slow brain. Why would words never find their way to her mouth with any kind of clarity? Why would her thoughts always sound laboured and pointless the moment they were out in the air? They sounded halfway decent in her head and she could be witty, goofy, intelligent, entertaining and inciteful at home, so why couldn’t she do the same when it mattered?

Having paid little attention to where she was walking, Cat took a moment to look around and spotted a bench close by. She hadn’t fully decided on whether or not to take the bus home, but she knew that she didn’t want to go back to the mall. Even if she could manage to hide her misery, she couldn’t enjoy the rest of the day while her heart constantly tormented her.

Thoughts of her sister crept back into her mind as she tried to push Jake and Andi out. She wondered where Christina was at that moment and if her parents had had any luck in figuring out what their eldest child was up to. She really wished that she hadn’t shouted so much or said so many mean things. She’d just been so angry with Chrissy for treating her like a kid and for being so secretive again about the whole ‘destiny and the Warehouse’ thing that she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. If there was ever a time in her life when she wanted her muffle-mouth to kick in, it was when her temper was about to make her hurt someone she loved. The words they’d spouted at each other sounded especially bitter in hindsight.

_“You’re just the Warehouse’s trained attack dog; the world doesn’t revolve around you!”_

_“Maybe you’ll actually be needed when you’re not being such a brat!”_

They might have argued many times while growing up – the age gap alone was enough to cause contention, but they’d never had a shouting match quite as fierce as that one.

She decided against the bus – since she wasn’t in the mood to start an argument with her parents about her safety, or prepared to have her new privileges revoked – but she still wanted to go home. Catherine sent a quick message to Jake to tell him that she wasn’t feeling well and then called her brother to beg him to pick her up.

As she mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ into the phone and then shoved it back into her pocket, a shadow passed over her and a figure placed itself on the empty space beside her. Squirming a little, she slid her hands into her pockets, curled her fingers around her house-key and glanced quickly to the side, eyeing up the stranger. _It’s a public bench, Cat,_ she thought to herself in order to stay calm, but she remained alert in any case. You couldn’t grow up in the Wells-Bering house and view strangers without suspicion, but she’d also been taught to be polite and courteous; she couldn’t attack people simply because they decided to sit near her on a bench. Tensions had been high around the house since the mass-suicides. The last thing she needed was another lecture about being vulnerable. _Perhaps you should’ve stayed with your friends if you were that worried, Cat?_

She quickly found the task of assessing the figure to be wonderfully diverting from her earlier melancholy thoughts and made a challenge of learning all she could in the short time she had. Christina could teach her these things, if she would deign to spend time with her little sister – a point that Cat still felt sore about. Well, maybe she could do it without ‘the chosen one’. What exactly could she learn about a stranger from a few short minutes sat on a bench with them?

_Well, he’s tall-ish and old,_ she began and immediately berated herself with a sharp ‘duh, anyone can see that!’ _Concentrate, Cat. Details. He doesn’t look as old as Mum so, forty? His clothes are old, like… in the pictures of Uncle Charles. He has a cane. A gentleman in business? Of leisure? Not a manual labourer for sure._ She caught a gust of wind that swept past and wrinkled her nose. _Yuck! He stinks! What is that smell? Meat? A butcher? Who else smells of death?_ She wracked her brain for the words she wanted, but had to resort to the alphabet to pull them from her memory. _The manager of an abattoir maybe? Or a gravedigger?_

She continued guessing, her imagination hitting on more and more ridiculous ideas: _mortician,_

_taxidermist,_ _vampire (no it’s daytime), zombie!_ The man suddenly turned to look at her and she realised that she’d snorted out loud. The contrite expression that she tried automatically to adopt froze as his eyes met hers. Something like a smile tugged at the lips beneath his moustache and a shiver ran along her spine. It was not a nice smile. Not even the annoyed, but accepting smile of a stranger who wished that you hadn’t just interrupted their very important musing. There was something unnerving and sinister beneath the surface of this smile and Catherine instinctively tightened her hand around her key.

The gentle _pip_ of a car-horn broke the girl’s keen awareness of this new, intangible threat and she breathed a huge sigh of relief as she turned to find her brother waiting for her. Grabbing her bag, she jumped off the bench and jogged towards the vehicle, throwing her belongings into the footwell before pulling the door firmly behind her and reaching for her seatbelt. She waved off Fredrick’s greeting and stared straight ahead as they turned around to head for home. Cat kicked herself for her reaction and felt stupid, but when her gaze landed on the bench again moments later and she found it empty, her heartbeat pounded against her chest.

“Hey, you ok?” Freddy frowned at his sister’s odd behaviour.

“I’m fine,” she shot back distractedly.

“You didn’t sound fine on the phone,” he reminded her. “And since you’re ditching your friends, I’m pretty sure that you’re not fine. What happened, Cat?”

“Have Mum and Ma found Chrissy yet?”

“They’re working on it. They have some idea of what Tina’s doing, they just need to find out where. You worried?” he asked.

Cat shrugged. “I just wanted to help, y’know? I hate being the baby of the family.” Her voice lowered to a murmur as she got lost in the memory of her argument with her sister and regret filled her. “Just wish I hadn’t said what I said.”

“Hey, I know that you hate being babied, Cat,” the young man began calmly, “but you can’t blame everyone for wanting to protect you. You have the privilege of being the youngest and whether you know it or not, it wasn’t always easy for Tina being the eldest. Or me for being in the middle.”

Catherine glanced sideways at her brother, an eyebrow raised as if she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “You’re trying to tell me that Christina got the short stick? She’s everyone’s hero,” she grumbled, the ‘mine too’ carefully hidden.

Freddy rolled his eyes but smiled at his younger sister as he shook his head. He was annoyed with her for pushing Christina to a place where his twin felt as if she needed to prove a point, but he understood where Catherine was coming from. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d been chomping at the bit, desperate to prove that _he_ wasn’t a kid and was capable of contributing to their family’s struggle. Being kidnapped was a horrifying experience and still gave him nightmares from time to time, but at least it had given him a position from where he could argue his point.

Plus, with having a younger sibling, there was the illusion that he was older than his years. Certainly, at Cat’s age he hadn’t felt quite as frustrated as she did with the restrictions placed upon her. He had a feeling that their sister was not the only issue that was bothering Cat at present though. Knowing that there was nobody at home, he decided that this was a perfect opportunity for a heart to heart and without even looking at the front door, he pushed his sister towards the garden gate.

At the surprise on the teen’s face, Freddy winked. He grabbed two cans of soda from the trunk and passed one to Cat before locking the car and leading them to the picnic tables that fed into the woods. Looking resigned, the girl took a seat and gazed around at the wild flowers and full trees. Everything looked so alive and vibrant – a stark contrast to how she felt inside.

“So, you wanna tell me why you ditched your friends at the mall?” Freddy asked as he took a seat opposite and leant closer. He crossed his index and ring fingers together and waved them in the air. “You, Jake and Andi are usually like this.”

Cat picked at a loose splinter of wood and shrugged. “I just didn’t want to sit there in the food hall, waiting for them.”

He frowned and contemplated her meaning for quite some time. He remembered trips to the mall with his friends. Sitting in the food hall and doing nothing was most teens’ perfect day out, so what was really bugging her about hanging with her friends? Eventually, he came to a conclusion. “So, which one is it?”

“Huh?” the teen replied in confusion.

“Which one do you fancy? Jake or Andi?” His sister’s eyes widened dramatically and her face flushed with what he assumed was embarrassment.

Cat spluttered and fumbled with her drink, almost knocking it to the floor. “Don’t know what you’re going on about,” she mumbled and shrank into her light jacket.

“Come on, Kitty Cat,” he implored as he tried to mask his amusement with concern. “You’re at that fun age where your body and brain work together to torture you. Believe me, we’ve all been there, it helps to tell someone you trust.”

The idea of letting the words out, of giving them shape and making her nightmare so much more real, was terrifying. Her immediate instinct was to try and make the problem go away. “What makes you think I trust _you_?” she spat acerbically. It was bad enough that Ma had wheedled information out of her, she didn’t also need her brother to know _who_ exactly she was crushing on. She had felt a little better after that conversation with her mother though. Maybe Freddy wouldn’t just use her feelings as ammunition to tease her.

Fredrick’s eyebrow rose sharply, giving him an expression that was reminiscent of their Mum when she was annoyed. “I get that you’re upset, but I’m trying to help. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so crappy if you stopped taking your bad moods out on everyone else.”

The teen scowled and closed her eyes to fight back the tears of frustration. No matter how right she knew he was, she couldn’t help the anger that rose at the idea that her brother could begin to understand her life. He was making an effort to spend time trying to talk to her though, which was more than she could say for her sister lately. She just wished that her family would see her as an equal and include her in whatever they spent all of their free time researching and preparing for.

The peace broke just as she’d decided she was calm enough to respond, and just as she’d found the words to admit to her dilemma. She’d taken a deep breath and found the courage from somewhere when a zap of electricity and a pained choking sound pulled her eyes open, forcing them to land on her brother, who shuddered with rigid jerks until his eyes rolled back in his head and he slid off his seat.

“Freddy!” a cry tore from her mouth and she leapt up to run to his aid. Barely a foot from her position, she froze as she watched the gentleman from the bench emerge from the treeline and spotted the taser-like weapon in his hand.

Beneath his moustache, the sinister smile was back, only now much more pronounced and chilling. Cat’s immediate instinct was to run, but she couldn’t leave her brother. A stand-off settled between her and the stranger for several seconds, giving her enough time to slide a hand into her pocket and press the sequence of buttons on her phone that would send an SOS to her family. With a snake-like dance, the man finally began to move forward, his hand measuring the weight of his chosen weapon, taunting the teen. Without forethought, Catherine sprang forward and stood protectively over her brother’s form. The intruder wasn’t yet at the barrier surrounding their home, but she had an ill feeling of foreboding and reacted instinctively.

Her throat was tight with fear but she managed to push a few words out, “Stay away from him!”

The man grinned, though his eyes narrowed in irritation. “So much like your mothers.”

“They’re coming for me,” she warned, hoping to scare him into running. By the chuckle that rose from deep within his chest, she knew she hadn’t. “What do you want?”

It didn’t even begin to occur to her that this was precisely the thing for which she had been asking for some time now. Given the chance later, she might have the presence of mind to reflect and appreciate that she was out of her depth without more experience on her side, but at that moment, her heart pumped too fast and she felt too sick with fear to do anything but react to whatever happened before help arrived.

“Retribution,” the man answered. His grin faded and a dark hunger fell over his leathery features. “Too often Miss Wells insulted me and disgraced a noble profession with her wild and unchecked behaviour. She must be made to understand that the world has no need for women like her. By the way,” he added as a cruel, knowing smirk tugged again at his mouth. “How do your mothers fare without Miss Bering’s memories?”

Hazel eyes widened with horrified understanding. “You took my Ma’s memories?” This was so much worse than she’d thought. This man had faced her parents and escaped to brag about it – not many people could claim that victory. Glancing down at Fredrick, she willed him to regain consciousness. She sent a prayer into the universe to pray for her parents to be swift. Outwardly, she pulled her body taller and stood her ground. “Give them back to her!” she seethed.

Immediately, she could tell that it hadn’t been the right thing to say if she wanted to keep the situation calm. They had always warned her that her quick temper would get her into serious trouble someday.

“You imagine that you can demand anything from me? Your mothers’ arrogance runs through your veins.” He stepped abruptly closer, scaling the gate and removing any hope that she might be safe behind the wards. “Much as I would enjoy taking my time with you, I believe you when you say that your meddlesome parents are on their way. No matter; I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that they will suffer your loss. Your sister wormed her way back to life somehow – after all the trouble I went through to have her killed. You will not be so fortunate.”

That revelation narrowed down the stranger’s origins greatly. He had to have been alive during the Victorian era and there was no doubt in her mind that her Mum would know exactly who he was. In seconds, this information was processed, stored and pushed aside. There were more pressing issues to attend to.

Cat knew that there was little she could do for her brother now. If she was to be of any help to anyone, she would first have to be alive. The moment he lunged at her, she dodged out of the way and ran. It was the right choice. The first rule of surviving an attack was to get away from the danger as quickly as possible. It was the right choice, but there were times when even a right choice could meet with disaster. She didn’t see the thing that took her legs out from under her, but felt the sharp impact of the unforgiving ground against her body. Even with the wind knocked out of her, she scrambled back to her feet with impressive speed. Having lost precious distance though, her pursuer closed the gap. A large hand grabbed at her hair and yanked her back, twisting her body painfully.

Furious, she clawed at every inch of skin that she could reach. The stench of death churned her stomach and as bile spilled into her mouth, she turned and spat it into his face, aiming unerringly at his eyes.

“Harlot!” he screamed and through his temporarily blindness, he managed to club her across the face with his free arm.

Catherine spat blood into a pool on the grass. That had hurt. It felt like his other hand was made of metal or stone. Spots danced in front of her but from the corner of her eye, hope emerged – she watched a figure stir next to the picnic table. _Freddy!_ She wanted to call out to him, but held her tongue. Best that her assailant not know that the young man was beginning to come around. _Move!_ she told herself and began to push her knees into the dirt, searching for her equilibrium as she struggled to right herself.

Time moved slowly for Cat. She saw her hands dig into the ground and stumbled to her feet like a new-born fawn, her vision shaky as she tried to recover from the blow to the head. It was hopeless, she realised as a hand closed around her neck and squeezed. Even as she kicked at anything she could reach and scratched at the fingers constricting her windpipe, she became aware of several things happening at once; her family had good reason for wanting to shelter her – this wasn’t some school-yard scuffle; this man who wanted revenge on her parents was enjoying every moment of her panic-stricken writhing; Freddy wasn’t going to recover in time, and her mothers were too far away.

She was going to die.

Catherine’s eyes rolled back into her head and black spots danced in her vision, and then abruptly there was air again. She tasted dirt but took no notice as she gasped and dragged in one lungful after another of precious oxygen. It didn’t last though. She missed seeing the artefact that landed on the ground behind her or the widening pool of water that sank deep into the earth. She didn’t see any of it until a foot pushed her over the edge and the icy grip of water surrounded her.

Only a few feet away from the life or death struggle, Fredrick finally regained his senses and took stock of what was happening. Panicked spluttering caught his attention and he rolled to his feet as fast as he could. The world wobbled around him and he staggered into the picnic table. Shaking off the last of the dizziness, he lunged towards the newly-appeared pond, where a man crouched with an arm half-submerged beneath the surface. Realisation hit him like a punch to the gut and he charged, barrelling into the stranger with all the force of an enraged rhino.

They tumbled away from the water’s edge, both picking up dirt and bracken along the way. Freddy found his feet first, his gaze searching the area frantically for his sister. Nothing.

“Do you not like to swim, young Master Wells?” the stranger taunted the young man, his features twisted in a morbid facsimile of joy.

Not sparing another second for the man, Fredrick pivoted, found ripples calming on the surface of the pond and dived.

* * * * *

Summer sun sparkled atop ripples. A light breeze danced between the fresh green of tree leaves. Bird-song rose to serenade the passing of time and the world continued to turn.

There was a peace in dying. Beyond the panic and the struggle for survival, a comforting blanket of nothing wrapped around the mind and turned off the lights. Like entering a dreamless sleep. At least, for Catherine Wells-Bering there was. Others might look upon such nothing as the worst possible end to a life that they had never understood to begin with, but Cat had not been afraid of the dark for a long time.

Her vision dimmed before the surface of the water lost touch with the sky, so she didn’t see the shadow that sank rapidly towards her. Her skin numbed before hands gripped her limp limbs, so she didn’t feel herself being dragged away from the inky fathoms below. She was gone before she reached daylight again and no amount of pounding on her chest or forcing air into her mouth could bring her back.

Endless rivers of familial tears coated her young frame in the hours that followed, but none had the power to revive the life that once resided there.

She was gone…

* * * * *

The highway tumbled beneath the wheels of the Wells-Bering family car at speed, its greyish-black hue a blur – insignificant to the two women inside, who couldn’t get home fast enough.

Myka had strict instructions to concentrate on driving while Helena spoke frantically with every person in close proximity to their home. She could only hear one side of the conversations in which her wife was engaged, since the inventor refused to distract her with the speaker-phone. Not that listening in would have changed much. The churning in her stomach and the white-noise in her ears would have made her almost deaf to any voice but the one in her head – the one that pleaded with the universe to let her family be ok.

She ran through another set of amber lights – something she would not normally condone – and pulled out of the town towards the residential district that had been their home since Fredrick was an infant. Neatly trimmed lawns and idyllic images of couples walking dogs and children riding bikes seemed to mock her as she sped along at twice her usual conservative speed. Once in their driveway, she barely gave time to change into park before she and Helena were tearing through the front door of their family home and calling their children’s names. An answering voice pulled them out onto the back porch and there they finally met their nightmare.

“Catherine!” the mothers cried in unison and tore across the grass to their baby’s prone body.

Myka took one look at her son’s drenched and stunned features before instinct claimed her and she began working on CPR. Freddy’s sobbed words ‘I already tried that’ were lost to her as she forced air into her daughter’s lungs and pushed rhythmically against her chest. She had no sense of how long she battled to bring the teen back, she refused to believe that her efforts could be in vain, but when large hands moved her gently away from the body, it was like somebody had hit her off-switch – hands flopped uselessly to her sides and every inch of her fell numb, not even an emotional echo from her wife breaking though her walls. It couldn’t possibly be real. Any minute now, she was going to wake up.

Half-aware, she watched another hand as it placed a tatty piece of ribbon transversely across the teen’s torso and wondered distantly at the brief shimmer which enveloped her child. On autopilot, she glanced up at the figures surrounding her broken family and searched for an answer to a question that she didn’t have the presence of mind to ask.

“It’s a stasis shield, dear,” Mrs Wells told her kindly. “Until we can agree on what best to do next.”

Myka nodded woodenly before turning to seek… something. Gaze landing on her wife, she felt a weight hit her. Catherine was dead. Their baby was dead. Words she’d spoken the night of the girl’s conception came back to her and she very nearly wished that she could take that decision back. Had it always been a horrible, selfish idea to choose to bring a child into their lives when there was so much risk involved?

But no. Even if fifteen years was all they could have ever had, she couldn’t take it back. Wouldn’t. Catherine had completed them and regret would never be a part of that.

“There’s no ambulance,” she noted, her brain absently grasping at details.

Freddy’s hoarse voice rose above a low hum of conversation, addressing his mothers. “There was no time once… once I got her out of the water. I… I tried to bring her back,” he choked and swallowed a sob. “Then you all started arriving…”

“Medical professionals will only hinder our efforts from here on,” Rupert explained soberly. “We made that mistake once before.”

At the reminder of Myka’s brief stay in Victorian England and the illness that had gripped her, HG tore her gaze away from her daughter’s body and levelled a force-ten glare at her grandparents and Thomas, who’d arrived only a few minutes after them. “What the bloody hell happened here!?” she roared. “You were supposed to make it safe here. In our _home_! How did this happen!?”

Taking the cue from her wife, Myka considered the confidence they’d had that their home was a sanctuary – the place they trusted most – where they never had to worry about their security so long as they were within the boundaries of their property. What had happened to take that safety net away and why hadn’t they known about its removal?

In an effort to temper her own anger and hope that she could prevent Helena from exploding, Myka found tears springing more readily to the fore. The bond she shared with her spouse crackled like a bad TV reception – the connection sporadic, but allowing enough through to let her know that her wife was barely holding on. Or was that her own tentative hold? It was hard to tell.

 “The wards – what happened?” she asked desperately.

Eleanor’s eyes passed between the two mothers before landing again on the dead teen. Catherine looked so small – so unlike the huge personality that had shone through right from the beginning. This wasn’t what she wanted for Helena or her family. “Claudia is investigating, but I think realistically we all know who’s responsible for allowing this prospect to arise,” she explained seriously.

Finding nothing in this to argue with, HG turned to Thomas with her next accusation, “What about Alpha Squad? I thought your team were loitering in Boulder specifically to protect my family!”

The squad-leader examined his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck as he played for time. After so many years of preparing for a scenario such as this, how could they have let this happen? “There was an emergency call from Denver – suspected connection to the suicides – and we were the closest,” he explained succinctly. “The call came through Warehouse channels but… my team hasn’t found any evidence of artefact involvement,” he trailed off.

As it seemed blatantly obvious that the call had been a decoy, Helena seethed silently and dismissed the young man with a look. How had it come to this? A scream tore through her mind and tears filled her eyes. She was supposed to be able to see it coming this time – to have an effectual part and to save the day, even if only by the skin of her teeth. A sneak attack against their most vulnerable part should never have been an option.

Myka breathed slowly but couldn’t stop the flame of fury from igniting within as this piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Heracles. They’d made a mistake in letting themselves believe that he would continue to threaten from afar before they could meet face to face. They had developed confidence in some underlying sign of honour. This very personal knife in the back erased any notion that their enemy intended to fight fairly however and the younger regent finally let herself feel the full force of her ire.

“I’ll kill him!” she growled and pushed fingernails into her palms. Tiny crescents of pain bit into her skin. It felt good. Anger burned through every other emotion that had been trying to surface and any concern about Helena’s current state of mind moved to the back-burner. She thought she’d understood the inventor’s rage and subsequent homicidal actions following Christina’s murder. She couldn’t have even begun to understand this horror. She wished that she didn’t understand it now. With sudden movement she stood and put some distance between herself and the remains of her family.

HG watched her wife’s caged display and felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. She felt like someone had just trepanned a hole into her head and was syphoning off the excess wrath, relieving the pressure. She knew immediately to where that excess was being syphoned. “Myka,” she began as she stepped closer and interrupted the brunette’s gait. Their eyes met and she found all of her pain mirrored back at her. “Darling, he will get what’s coming to him. We will not let this… this violation – this injustice… stand. But right now,” she swallowed and screwed her eyes shut. A tear escaped the damn and dripped over ageing porcelain before a thumb reached up to wipe it away. The last thing she wanted, or felt capable of, was to be level headed and reasonable, but there was more than just herself to worry about this time – her wife and two other children needed her. “We have to take Catherine inside. We can’t leave her like this any longer. Fredrick needs us and we have to find Christina.”

Myka’s hands squeezed Helena’s and she collapsed against her wife. Her forehead hit the inventor’s chest and she pulled air through her nose until the pounding in her veins began to subside. Finally nodding, she pushed down the sob that bit against her throat, gathered her strength and stood tall.

There was a brief stand off as more than one of them felt the need to accompany the teen’s body into the house. In the end, the task fell to Thomas, who had the upper body strength and wasn’t shaking uncontrollably like Fredrick. As the agent lifted the girl, the younger man allowed his mothers to wrap him up in arms and a thick blanket. Despite the early-summer heat, he felt cold – the abnormal icy touch of water had seeped into his bones and his failure in being able to save his sister ate at any warmth which tried to claw its way back into his body.

A sombre silence accompanied the family into the house, preoccupation preventing any of them from looking back, from searching the distant treeline for intrusive, satisfied eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've agonised over this chapter for ages, but there it is.
> 
> As if I needed any more reason to do away with Kipling!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know last week's chapter was a hard one. Thank you all for your comments - I love how much you all love the Wells-Bering kids. It was a bitch of a week - I was really glad of the company!
> 
> This might be another tear jerker. I hope there's a bit of levity and hope in there for you all too.

** Chapter Seven **

Christina pulled up outside her parents’ house and killed the engine. Having left in such a hurry and without telling anyone, she imagined the negative reception that awaited her inside and felt all of her anxieties settle again in her stomach, accompanying the churning discomfort that had been with her the entire journey. She’d acted rashly, but they would have to see that it had worked out for the best. Cassandra, Heracles’ right hand, was dead. They could all breathe a little easier knowing that the woman responsible for so many of their problems was no longer a threat. Right?

After steeling herself, she climbed out of the car and clicked the lock just as the front door opened and ejected her on again/off again boyfriend. Assuming that the frown on his face was in response to her solo adventure, she approached cautiously and when he didn’t immediately berate her, she wrapped her arms around his waist, sinking into him. Since she’d let him leave Bering and Wells Books without fighting for him to stay, she’d been kicking herself for her stubbornness. Whatever motivated him to offer this show of affection, she was grateful.

It took a few seconds before the expanding relief popped and she realised that the dread in her stomach had less to do with a fear of facing her parents and more to do with something that had happened in her absence. The tremble in Thomas’ limbs finally broke through the last of her denial and she pushed him away slightly to look him in the eye.

The sharp grief behind deep blue pierced Christina’s heart and stole her breath. “No…” she whispered and drove past him into the house.

Inside, the choking sound of sorrow led her up the stairs. Her heart pounded like it did in her nightmares, her legs felt like lead and a wall of white noise abruptly filled her ears, making her feel like she was drifting miles above her surroundings with no way to intervene and change what was happening. She alighted on the landing and Fredrick appeared beside her, blocking her advance. His now adult body acted like a steel barrier between her and her destination and with no strength left in her limbs, she pounded fruitlessly against his arms as she tried to pass by. Her twin refused to budge, but her eyes found a view beyond him that confirmed her worst fears – her mothers clutching each other in emotional agony as they hovered over a figured covered by a white sheet.

“Cat…” she mouthed her sister’s name before she lost all feeling in her legs and collapsed into her brother’s arms.

* * * * *

A cold quiet filled the house. All of its occupants were motionless under the power of their individual thoughts. Shock and disbelief dominated the atmosphere. Christina and Fredrick had been joined on the landing by Thomas but other than Freddy’s acknowledging nod to his sister’s boyfriend, not one of them took notice of their surroundings. Limp in her brother’s arms, Christina stared unseeing into her sister’s bedroom and recalled the last words they’d said to each other – the anger, the recriminations, the sibling rivalry that had finally come to a head.

Every little sound or movement echoed loudly in the solemn air but no one reacted outwardly. Beside Cat’s bed, Helena knelt on the ground, a hand resting beside the still body of her youngest child while her head dropped until it landed weakly against the mattress. Her half-crumpled figure served as a contrast to Myka’s, who had wandered towards the open door and hovered at the threshold, limbs stiff as conflict swam across her face. For once, there were no words buzzing around the regent’s busy mind, only the sound of her inner voice alternately sobbing and screaming. In a distant corner of her brain, she realised that her eldest had returned home and that tiny piece of worry evaporated, but the reunion would have to wait until the still-bleeding tear in their hearts allowed them to come up for air. Drowning. That’s what it felt like.

She didn’t know what to do first – to comfort her children, stay with her wife, find something to punch the living daylights out of, or start the inevitable process of providing for Catherine’s afterlife care. They would have to investigate the circumstances of her baby’s death too. All she had managed to pull from Fredrick so far was the description of a man who smelled like rotting flesh and had an English accent. One of Heracles’ henchmen probably but with no further leads, it wasn’t much to launch an investigation. Ignoring the fact that she’d had much less to go on in the past, Myka allowed her devastation to take over her thoughts for a moment. A lump appeared in her throat and the backs of her eyes stung with the tears that she could no longer hold onto, and just as they appeared, fury clenched her fingers tightly together. With each minute that passed, Cat’s murderer continued to escape justice and a voice deep inside the regent began to thirst for something dark – a sinister, enticing hunger for justice.

She wouldn’t cry, and she wouldn’t rest until she had retribution! Suddenly, she saw the rotting stranger in the back of her mind and felt herself squeezing her hands around his throat. She would find satisfaction in watching his life fail, slowly, painfully.

Without any conscious thought, she found herself downstairs in the study where Eleanor and Rupert were deep in conversation with Claudia. Since the caretaker’s arrival, bringing news that the wards had indeed collapsed, she hadn’t truly noticed the absence of her in-laws. The fact that they had abandoned Helena in this hour of need provided her with a convenient outlet for her ire, and the surprise and compassion that met her abrupt entrance did little to temper her thoughts as she stood in the doorway for several seconds, arms crossed over her chest and seething.

“Business as usual with you three?” she challenged sharply.

Claudia’s expression reflected the hurt and sorrow the redhead felt in her bones. Knowing that her friend was just lashing out at anything she could to try and exorcise some of her pain, Claudia took no offence at the tone or accusation. She would happily take the brunt of the blame, gladly be back at the bookshop listening to HG’s suspicions, if it had any chance of preventing Catherine’s death. She thought back to the conversation Myka had interrupted and hoped that she and the older regents could offer an acceptable solution.

“Mykes, I… we…” The words wouldn’t come. They formed whole in her mind and got stuck in her throat. Fortunately for her, the Wells matriarch was more adept at expressing herself in times of stress. Claudia felt a hand on her shoulder and stepped back to give the Victorian some room.

“Come and join us, my dear. We have something of great import to discuss. Rupert,” she turned to her husband, “would you see to it that Helena is not alone, love?”

Mr Wells nodded, kissed his wife on the cheek and left the room – only pausing to offer his granddaughter-in-law a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. It might only have been a small gesture but the effect was profound, pulling most of the wind from the younger regent’s sails.

“What could possibly be important right now?” Myka croaked. She resented and welcomed the hands that led her to the small couch and encouraged her to sit. She wanted to yank her arm away and demand answers while she simultaneously longed to fall into the comfort of another person and pour her heart out. The anger was keeping her strong though and she clung to it, needing a buoyancy aid to keep afloat of her emotions.

Eleanor pulled another chair close and continued to cradle the regent’s hands in her own. She knew that what she had to say would both elate and devastate her family further, but it was time – time to fulfil her purpose in this place. “My dear, we are exploring a plan that may bring Catherine back to us.”

* * * * *

Helena had only passively noticed her wife’s absence from Catherine’s room and had no idea how much time passed before the brunette returned to request her presence downstairs. Her grandfather’s steady hand on her shoulder had kept her company during the interval and remained there as she stared around the room, shock and revulsion pulling at her features as she allowed their news to take shape in her mind.

“No,” HG croaked forcefully. Her left hand closed tighter around Myka’s while the other took her pain out on an innocent cushion. The hours she’d spent crying over her daughter’s dead body were reflected in her voice. A flicker of hope crossed over the bond she shared with her mate and a wall rose in her mind – instinctively closing off her connection and leaving her alone in her head. None of this stopped her from letting her thoughts be known to the rest of the room though, “No.”

Eleanor smiled sadly. “Little One, we are not congregated to ask your permission.”

The family were gathered in the living room, having left Thomas upstairs to stand guard over Catherine’s body. Christina lurked in a corner, her shame and guilt forcing her into the shadows and Fredrick hovered uncertainly between his parents and the doorway. The Victorian matriarch stood in front of the fireplace, the focus of everyone’s attention as she and her husband explained in detail their theory, research and subsequent plan. So far, their news had been met with nothing but silence and resistance.

“We have had more than our allotted time on this earth,” Rupert added in a warm tone that usually served to provide comfort to his granddaughter. “The lifeforce we have been blessed with must be returned to the universe.”

“You hid this from us?” Helena asked hoarsely.

“Is that not self-evident? We could not burden you further with this possibility. You would have driven yourselves mad with worry, wondering when you might lose someone and who it might be, and mad with guilt contemplating the sacrifice that must be made to recover the loss.” Eleanor sighed. “You would choose your children over your elders, love. As it should be. There is no shame in that.”

“Your grandmother and I have accumulated years enough to give Catherine a full life. We are at peace with this decision,” Rupert tried to assure his granddaughter. He hated seeing so much anguish in her eyes. “All that remains is for us to say our final farewells.”

HG shook her head vigorously and then buried it in her hands, tears falling hotly into her open palms. Arms pulled her sideways into a warm body and she turned to bury herself in her wife’s embrace. Had she been in a place where she could be more logical than emotional, the inventor would have seen and understood the elegance in her grandparents’ plan. As it was, her brain was frozen; she couldn’t begin to process what she was being told, other than the idea that she was about to lose yet more people she loved.

In comparison, Myka’s mind was racing forward and imagining the moment that she could feel warmth beneath her daughter’s skin again. It made perfect sense to her – all she needed to know was when they could start. As she comforted the inventor though, she kept a close reign on her eagerness and focussed her energies on holding Helena close. A quick glance around the room at the varying expressions of horror and hope was enough to bring her back down to earth and green eyes slowly landed on the older couple. Reality hit her like a truck.

In an effort to be practical, Myka tried to organise her thoughts into questions. “How much time do we have and what do we need to do to prepare?” She felt HG’s body shudder against her and jumped as her wife tore away from her.

“I can’t… I can’t be here for this,” Helena sobbed as she stumbled from the room.

Eleanor was the first to step forward in an attempt to follow her granddaughter, but Rupert’s hand on her arm stopped her and with minimal eye-contact she relented and nodded for him to go ahead. After a long minute of silence, she cleared her throat and returned to business. “To answer your question, we are hastened most by our grief and our desire to see Catherine whole again, but we mustn’t forget that we are also up against outside forces that will not stand on ceremony whilst you find your feet. I think the sooner we begin the process, the better.”

“Cassandra is dead,” Christina commented, speaking for the first time since entering the house. Her news met with stares and she felt the last of her triumph fizzle away. “I know I should’ve been here. If I had then…” She swallowed with difficulty, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “We fought and she… fell.” Her breath caught and she stared at the carpet for several seconds. “I don’t know what the response will be from the other side – whether this will delay Heracles’ plans or hasten them. We need to be prepared either way.”

Myka, unsure what she should say, merely nodded and turned back to her in-law. Again, that nagging instinct to talk to her eldest prodded at her, but her jumbled thoughts smothered it. Her most pressing concern was following any hope that Catherine might return to them. “You’re sure that this is what you and Rupert want?” Much as she hated herself for fear that her question might change the regent’s mind, she knew that she had to ask. She would sacrifice her own life for her children, so she understood the Victorians’ position and knew that there was nothing she could do to change their minds.

“This is, as I have heard our dear Catherine say on many occasions, ‘a no brainer’,” Mrs Wells answered with a resolved smile.

“You’ll be leaving behind a hole that can’t be filled,” the younger regent acknowledged.

“A smaller hole than the one which exists at present I think.”

* * * * *

Rupert approached his granddaughter cautiously. She hadn’t gone far, fleeing only a few feet into the kitchen. With her gaze turned towards an empty counter top and her shoulders slumped in defeat, he knew that she was teetering on the edge of an abyss. “We said goodbye once before,” he began softly, “under false pretences, with the knowledge that you must lose your way. This time, my dear, we can leave knowing that you are in safe hands and with all the love we could possibly wish for you.”

Helena sucked in a sharp breath and wrapped her arms tighter around her waist. “It’s not… I don’t want this.” She turned suddenly, her gaze gathering fire. “My family…” she half-whispered, stumbling over her words.

“Is here, love,” Rupert insisted as he drew her into his arms. For a minute, he simply rocked back and forth, remembering the squirming bundle his son had once placed in his arms. “Saying goodbye is never easy. You are blessed, Helena. Your family will be whole, even once we are gone.”

She nodded into his shoulder; her arms tight around his torso. His words settled in her mind and she couldn’t stop the hope that finally welled up behind them. “… Will it work?” she choked. “Catherine – my baby…”

Cradling her face between his large hands – thumbs wiping her tears away, he nodded, smiled and kissed her forehead. “It will work. This is not a decision with which you or anyone else need worry yourselves. No guilt, Helena. No blame. Just love. Remember that.”

Closing her eyes tightly, she nodded again and sniffed back another sob. “I will. I understand.”

“Be strong; you will prevail.”

A weight seemed to lift suddenly from her shoulders. She thought about the unexpected years that she’d had with her grandparents and the questions she and Myka had regarding their longevity. The concern for why they continued to age in reverse. What was it all for, and what would come of it? That concern was no longer necessary.

And then there was Catherine. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that the prone teen upstairs was merely sleeping – not if she could be up and walking around again. That thought, as it burrowed properly into her brain this time, brought a clarity that allowed her to open her consciousness again, letting Myka’s feelings return to mingle with her own. Her relief echoed across the bond and in spite of her sorrow and grief, she felt comforted by the knowledge that she was not alone.

* * * * *

It was decided that they wouldn’t wait to gather everyone to say goodbye. Eleanor and Rupert were not the kind of people who sought an audience for the pivotal moments in their existence and all that truly mattered to them was the fact that they were surrounded by those people they loved most.  Still, those who could be contacted were, and the house slowly began to fill through the course of the next day. Though the Wells couple dismissed the need for pomp and circumstance, their involvement over the years had touched many lives and they welcomed the company.

It wasn’t really possible to have a celebration of two lives well-lived under the circumstances. Something between a wake and a bon voyage soiree took shape under their noses, with people disappearing sporadically and discretely upstairs so as not to leave Catherine alone. Periods of quiet reflection were followed by bursts of hysterics as the couple reflected on their more memorable moments. Since most of those fond reflections included Helena, the inventor managed to crack a smile or two, but it was with a wretchedness that she could barely keep inside. By the following day, the older couple, who had been like parents to her for the better part of her life, would be beyond any reach.

With this thought ping-ponging around her mind, HG soon excused herself and found refuge in the basement. Normally, she would have found solace in the company of books in the library, but since the ground floor was swimming with well-wishers and people offering condolences, the lower level was the best choice for solitude.

She gazed with red-rimmed eyes at all of the preparations they’d made over the years and wondered how much of that time had been wasted. What good was any of it if it didn’t spare them from the grief of losing a loved one? Or three?

Despite the hope felt by all for her daughter’s revival, Helena feared that the promised outcome was like all of these many distractions – a desperate attempt to pretend that they were not doomed.

She’d lost two children. Christina’s death still plagued her nightmares on occasion and it didn’t matter that most days she could push a button and hear the voice of her eldest daughter, clear as day. The memory of a hundred years in bronze, reliving the few years after the eight-year-old’s murder, was a deep scar that still tripped her up. Footsteps descended behind her and she quickly realised that, for almost an hour, she’d been staring at the relics of a life lived on borrowed time.

“I deserve this,” she whispered to herself and the room. A noise of derision followed her statement and she felt arms wrap around her waist. “I do. This is my punishment for killing the men who took Christina’s life, for the death of those boys in Egypt, and likely for James McPhearson’s untimely passing.”

“Even if I agreed with you, which I don’t, I think a lifetime in bronze was punishment enough,” Myka murmured into her wife’s ear. “But because you are fundamentally a good person, Helena, you are never going to stop punishing yourself.”

“Then why is this happening?” HG asked and turned to find the brunette’s gaze. “I want our baby returned to us, Myka. I want her right here in my arms, warm and whole. I can’t stop thinking about the day I went into labour – the panicked drive to the hospital, the fear that we would lose her before we even had a chance to meet her…” She stopped to choke back more tears and shuddered through several breaths while Myka rubbed hands up and down her arms. “But I can’t have her back until I say goodbye to the two people who raised me.”

Myka wrapped both arms around her wife’s shoulders and drew the inventor close. She could see that Helena’s mind was on overload, that even with the rather large capacity she possessed for absorbing data and processing information, the Victorian was struggling to stay afloat. There was little more she could do but provide a shoulder on which to cry however. The processing, understanding and accepting would take time and there was nothing she could do to speed that along.

“You need to speak with them, honey,” she told HG as the shudders died down and she pulled away. “You need to tell them how you feel, and somehow find the words to say goodbye.”

Eyelids slammed shut on glassy brown, as if to protect the inventor from the reality, but a small nod acknowledged it all the same. “I know. Once everyone leaves…”

Myka inclined her head, understanding both the reluctance to have a very personal conversation in public – no matter how well loved the onlookers were – and the need to procrastinate. “Artie and Vanessa, Steve and Jason, and Abigail have already gone. It’s just Pete’s entourage left. There’re no rules to say how you have to handle this, Helena. Just say what you have to say, and listen as much as you can.”

* * * * *

The inventor stood out in the back garden once all of their guests had left and waited for her grandparents to join her. After her time with Myka in the basement, she’d made her way to Catherine’s room and took over the vigil for a while, her memories taking her on a journey through the young girl’s life. Now, as she gazed out on the land where her children had played and flourished, she turned to the years spent with Norie and Rupert, particularly those since their reunion…

_“No, I am not wearing that!” HG yelled with indignation, across the length of the garden, as she backed up towards the tree house._

_Eleanor approached slowly, a garment bag slung over her arm and gleeful intent shimmering behind her eyes. “Helena, darling child, it is time that you surrendered to the understanding that you will never escape your grandmother. I am the force in your existence that will forever hound your every step. Now… please desist with this childish behaviour and put the dress on.”_

_Helena circled the trunk of the tree, uncaring of how ridiculous she might look. Behind her grandmother she noted amusement on the expressions of all the onlookers, but particularly Myka’s. That uninhibited belly-laugh was music to her ears but she wasn’t yet ready to concede to Norie’s maniacal plans. Fancy dress or not, she wouldn’t wear that thing. “I did rarely concede to my mother’s wishes to wear such attire, what on God’s green earth would lead you to believe that your wishes would hold any more water with me?”_

_“Trust that I have your best intentions at heart,” Mrs Wells replied. Her voice lowered to a register only audible to the inventor. “I guarantee that a certain someone will appreciate the effort.”_

_“I could wear a burlap sack and she would appreciate it,” HG retorted. “My physical allure has not diminished.”_

_“I was not suggesting that you would be more sexually appealing, but nothing brings couples together like humour,” Eleanor pressed. “Surely you are not afraid of a simple garment?” she scoffed._

_“A Marie Antoinette styled dress? Really?” Helena kept the immovable bole between them, assessing each diminishing step. “Have I not suffered enough?”_

_“Oh, grow a pair, Helena!” Eleanor snapped uncharacteristically. At her granddaughter’s surprised and indignant look, she lunged forward and feigned a right before chasing left around the tree._

_HG, startled at the abrupt change, was taken unawares for a fraction of a second before she skidded out of her refuge and made a break for the house. Halfway there, she realised that there were no sympathisers on her side and saw the wall of traitorous bodies for the impenetrable force that it was. At the last second, she changed direction and made for the fence and the treeline beyond. “Have it your way; I’ll live in the woods!” she yelled and finally allowed her smile to appear as a raucous uproar followed her, along with her grandmother._

_It seemed that she had finally found the downside to having backwards ageing elders. While they had always been a spritely, active couple, in recent months they had begun to make the most of their revitalised ‘youth’ and were behaving increasingly like children. Norie and Rupert were still the older couple in the family, but the physical age gap was closing and no one knew how long it might be before HG overtook them. It was another situation that they rarely spoke of – one that they could find no solution to._

_Not content to stand around and watch, Freddy joined the chase and hopped over the fence, moving through the trees at a calculated angle to intercept his mother. His sisters were hot on his heels, leaving their Ma behind, unable to move from laughing._

_After a short chase, Helena found herself buried under the bodies of her children and no amount of tickling could deter them from insisting that she surrender. “Alright! You traitorous children! I concede,” she grumbled with good-natured crankiness. She played the impromptu game and allowed them to escort her back to the house – to where her wife waited with smug amusement painted over her features. “Your minions have bested me – what would you do with me now?”_

_Myka winked at the spectators and inclined her head towards the house. “I’ll take it from here, guys. Go and a get ready for the party,” she told them and twirled a finger around the lapel of the inventor’s shirt as excited chatters faded away and they were left alone. Shaking her head, she pulled HG closer and wrapped her arms around a narrow waist. “What is it with you and this holiday?” She’d heard tales of the Victorian’s annual antics when it came to resisting the lure of ghouls and goblins, but she’d assumed that they were mostly exaggerated._

_Helena kissed along a jawline and buried her face into wild hair. “For the thrill of the chase, some traditions should not be abandoned.”_

_The younger regent’s eyebrow rose sharply and she pulled back to capture dark eyes that shone with mischief. “So, you’re a Halloween Scrooge deliberately to fight with me?”_

_“Heaven forbid I allow our existence to become mundane,” HG smirked. “Besides, I like to think that I facilitate a sense of achievement at the end of our struggles.”_

_Myka laughed. “You are weird and wonderful. Never stop surprising me.”_

_“As you wish, my lady,” the inventor said before sinking into a kiss and pulling her wife closer. They lingered outside, embraced beneath the darkening sky for some time before lips parted and they began to wander towards the back door of the house._

_“I wish to take my lady love out to a party tonight,” Myka prodded gently, following her companion’s last comment. “The question is, will she be dressing up with me?” Helena pulled a face, inciting her partner to chuckle again at her expense. “Would it help your decision if you took a look at my outfit first?”_

_Feeling her attention pique, HG swept Myka’s figure with her gaze and began to guess the brunette’s costume of choice. “Vampire? Bride of Frankenstein? Witch?”_

_“None of the above.”_

_“Werewolf? Zombie? Naughty Nurse?”_

_At that last suggestion, Myka’s gait came to an abrupt halt and she levelled a hard stare at her wife. “Really?”_

_Helena grinned unrepentantly. “Another time perhaps. Our next date night?”_

_Green eyes rolled at the thought and Myka turned back towards the stairs, leading them up as she decided not to dignify her wife’s words with an answer. They found on their bed the garment bag with which Eleanor had been attempting to torture her granddaughter. HG frowned and picked at it with distaste. Her grandmother had taken great pains to describe the dress that she and Myka had masterminded. They’d even called TJ at Faraday’s to have it tailor made especially for this night._

_It seemed like such an extravagance to conspire with their business partner half way across the world just for a Halloween costume, but as this was the first that Myka would remember them spending together, she’d kicked up little fuss. As she thought about it and studied the bag more carefully though, she began to wonder how such an elaborate dress – as had been suggested to her – could possibly fit into such a small space. Recalling pictures of Louis XVI’s wife and the elaborate French style of the time, she began to suspect that Norie hadn’t been entirely truthful with her description._

_While Helena mulled it over, Myka disappeared into their closet and reappeared moments later with another garment bag hung over her arm. “Help me with the zip?” she asked as she held it up against her body._

_HG obliged and realised very quickly that she’d been duped into believing her grandmother’s carefully woven distraction. The dress that emerged before her eyes was a remarkable replica, but not from any member of French aristocracy. It was the dress that Lucile had made, at the request of a young Helena Wells, for the enchanting brunette who had stayed temporarily with her grandparents. “This is… yours.”_

_“So I’ve been told,” Myka replied with a shy smile. “Norie and Christina suggested it. It sounded like quite the night to remember and I hoped you wouldn’t mind indulging me in trying to recapture a part of it.”_

_Helena’s eyes met glassy green ones and she gently, but swiftly removed the article of clothing from between them before stepping into her wife’s arms and pulling her close. “That was the first night I kissed you. From my point of view at least. No matter how confusing the events of those few weeks were, it is a night that I treasure – I will gladly replay it with you. I only wish that I could conjure my brother or Oscar Wilde to entertain you while I imbibe too much wine and try desperately to impress you.”_

_Myka needed help to find her way into her dress and savoured every deliberate brush of her wife’s fingers against her skin as the bodice was pulled snuggly around her torso and the laces were tied in back. Even if it wasn’t the elaborate get up that she’s conspired to tease Helena with, she felt like a princess. The rich, peacock blue was striking and brought a youthful glow to her skin, even somehow making the grey in her hair appear more like deliberate waves of silver. While she’d been told that the original design had needed alteration to distract admiring eyes from her pregnancy, now the cut of the dress accentuated her athletic figure and she had to admit that she was enjoying the opportunity more than she’d anticipated._

_Though it wasn’t until Helena stood next to her, attired in her own gown, that the younger regent was truly grateful for the effort that she’d put into this surprise. The dark green of HG’s dress complimented her own and the black lace gave it a slightly gothic air that suited the style of the Halloween spirit. Once hair and makeup were sorted, they descended the stairs together and met their family by the front door._

_Pete stood at the curb, next to the mini-bus he’d hired for the night, and grinned at the advancing group. “Welcome aboard the Addams Family’s bus,” he announced with pride as he self-consciously played with his Gomez-moustache. “I had hoped to have it looking like a hearse, but the rental company said it would void their insurance.”_

_“And you chose the responsible option?” HG asked sceptically._

_“Hey, I’m a big boy now,” Pete whined back, launching their usual volley of playful barbs. “I’m wearing my training pants and everything,” he added proudly._

_Helena held out a hand for her wife as she offered her into the bus. “In training to be what precisely? A mortician?”_

_“Nah, that’s the missus,” he winked and blew a kiss at the woman in the driver’s seat, whose normally blonde hair was completely obscured by a shiny, black wig. “Mi amore.”_

_“Mon cher,” Lila answered as her character dictated, happily playing along to her partner’s fantasy._

_Ignoring the back and forth between the couple, Myka and Helena found their seats near the front and left the back for the youngsters. They enjoyed the happy chatter from their own little bubble, occasionally responding to the conversation that Pete was leading, and both smiling at the bizarre comments that reached them from behind. Myka in particular soaked up the cheerful atmosphere, not being able to recall a time when she had been a part of such family antics._

_Through the evening, green eyes could hardly stop themselves from drifting often over the inventor. No matter where either stood in the large space reserved for the neighbourhood gathering, Myka managed – without effort – to find her lover. After allowing a fair amount of time to mingle and relearn some of the names and faces of her neighbours, she drifted back to her belle of the ball, meeting no resistance as she tugged them onto the dancefloor._

_“Did we dance like this before, back in England?” the younger regent wondered aloud as she swayed gently against her partner._

_“Not in eighteen-ninety-one we didn’t. There were however many such dances during our wedding,” HG replied._

_The brunette remained quiet for several minutes as she worked through her feelings on the subject. “Tell me more about that night at your brother’s,” she requested gently after they’d swayed through two songs._

_HG obliged, spinning the tale the way that she remembered it. She skipped over details that made green eyes darken and embellished those that brought out a sparkle of delight. “I do recall my grandmother warning me that I was not to toy with you.”_

_“Smart woman.”_

_“Yes. She knew immediately that I was besotted with you,” the inventor responded and let her gaze drift to find the woman who had been more of a mother to her than a grandmother. How different would her life be if she had never had the older Wells’ influence? She couldn’t imagine ever making it this far without that support. “I do not know what I would do without her.”_

… A smile pulled at Helena’s mouth just as the back door opened and ejected the two people without whom she would not be so fortunate. Tears quickly replaced the smile and she fell into the arms that wrapped around her.

Nothing was said for several minutes as the trio basked in the embrace and absorbed every second of comfort. Eventually, Eleanor led them to a bench, positioned her granddaughter between her and her husband and launched into a monologue of her favourite ‘young Helena’ moments. Rupert managed to fill in the gaps when his wife paused for air and between them, they encouraged their Little One’s shoulders to lighten a little from the crushing weight of death that hovered over them. After a time, they fell into a comfortable silence and simply enjoyed the twinkling of the stars overhead and the occasional interruption from the local wildlife.

“I laboured over this for many hours when I first considered the day on which we would have to part,” Norie told the inventor as she reached into the pocket of her trousers and removed a slip of paper. “It would very much please me if someone would read this at our wake. I understand if it is too much for you personally…”

“I will read it,” HG insisted and all but snatched the neatly folded sheet from the older woman’s grasp. She scanned the paper and felt her words catch in her throat. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered after a few seconds to recover and lifted her gaze to finally take in the couple. “I will miss you both so much.”

“I have no doubt that the days to come will be arduous for you, Helena, but as much as you are able, we wish that you can celebrate the time we had together and not linger over loss,” Rupert nudged from beside the inventor. “Your family is here for you, and you are here for them. Don’t waste time on regret.”

HG nodded and drew several deep breaths. “Tell me again how the artefact works.”

Eleanor conceded, knowing that the empirical data would help her granddaughter to process. “As you know, the Chronos Stone has been recycling the energy which it used to transport our matter through time. We suspect that the energy will continue to grow exponentially unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless it is given a new, permanent home.”

“So, you always knew this would happen?” the inventor frowned.

“No, dear,” Mrs Wells denied swiftly. “It was simply a possibility that we were forced to explore. When we discovered that we could transfer our combined lifeforce to another person – that we would have to at some point, in order to be severed from the stone – what better way to do that than for someone we love?”

“I do wish you had told me… but I understand your dilemma.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say and the sands of time were slipping though their fingers.

Mr Wells tried to read into the silence and placed a hand on the inventor’s arm. “It should be a simple procedure. Painless, if you’re concerned about that.”

Helena smiled and covered her grandfather’s hand with one of her own. “Thank you.”

They talked long into the night, occasionally joined by Myka and their great-grandchildren, who mostly supplied everyone with tea and sat unobtrusively by, listening in silence. Though they were all exhausted by the day’s events, and Christina was doubly drained by her solo-mission, none could sleep. Until the inky blanket of night turned gradually lighter, they remained awake, absorbing every last second of their time together.

With dawn came their final goodbyes and as one, they made their way to Catherine’s room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes sense to everyone. Thoughts?
> 
> I'm away next weekend, so don't know if I'll be able to update until the week after.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I returned home last Sunday, after a lovely weekend away, to find engineers had closed off roads and my phone line was non-functional. No phone = no Internet. Now, I don't spend enormous amounts of time online and can happily find other ways of spending my leisure time, but I had planned on uploading this chapter earlier and was a little miffed to find my plans foiled. C'est la vie!
> 
> Though I'm feeling better for having written more this last couple of weeks, I'm beginning to panic that I jumped the gun and started sharing The Battle - Part Three much too early! Apologies if parts are not as polished as they could be, but there simply aren't enough hours in the day (and I don't have the mental energy at the moment) to edit as much as I normally like to.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's continuing to follow this story, but particular thanks to those who stop to tell me what you think - you are the fuel that keeps my muse motivated!

** Chapter Eight **

_Waiting and floating. She wasn’t conscious of it until now. Hadn’t been aware of anything since the moment she lost contact with her body. She wasn’t even sure what ‘she’ meant anymore. Did indecision still exist? Or questions? But somehow there came the sensation of being embraced – two beings who wrapped themselves around her and whispered things in the dark – reassurances and absolution from guilt._

_Their warmth was familiar and the more she realised this, the more she understood – they were leaving, saying goodbye. Could she cry? No, she no longer had eyes with which to shed tears. She had no arms to hug with either but something made her aware of wanting to return the comfort that continued to squeeze._

_She felt heavier. No body weighed her down but she sank regardless. Or did she rise? She couldn’t tell. Which way was up now? The tightness receded. She wanted to hold on and pull it back but the beings wanted her to let go, to become heavy again. They offered courage and a love that could never die. They thanked her, and then… she let go…_

* * * * *

… Cat first became aware of her nose. It itched and she scrunched up her face to try and relieve herself of the annoying sensation. A joy-filled sob filled her ears, followed by several voices muttering excitedly around her, and her head turned as her eyes tried to peel back their lids. Lazy seconds passed before the memory of her lungs filling with water came back to her. Limbs jerked as they did with the imagined feeling of suddenly falling and she reached out for an anchor.

The moment her eyes opened fully, she was gently dragged from her pillow and pulled against her Mum’s body. Her name tumbled repeatedly into her hair and tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes. She gazed around in confusion at all the people loitering in her bed room until hazel landed on her brother. Relief flooded into her and poured out in torrents, her breath catching on every sniffle.

She was safe and so was Freddy. The sinister stranger was gone and her family surrounded her like a shield.

Gradually, the room emptied until only her mothers remained. It was all beginning to come back to her now – not just the drowning, but the fight with her sister, her flight from the mall, the man on the bench, watching her brother fall unconscious and trying in vain to fight off her attacker. It had all happened so fast. They had all warned her and tried to tell her that she wasn’t ready, but she could not have begun to understand the horrors that waited for her. No amount of wishing or what ifs could change that now though. She felt like she’d just aged a lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the room once she had her breath back.

HG squeezed her baby tighter and shook her head against Catherine’s. “No, my love. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She felt a weight on her shoulder and reached up for her wife’s hand. They could barely begin to process the events of the last few days, but without her spouse, she knew she would have crumbled to pieces.

A lengthy silence surrounded them as Cat became more aware of the world again and enjoyed the feel of fingers stroking through her hair. Eventually, she began to think about the sensations of waking up and felt the need for answers. “They’re gone, aren’t they? Grandma Ellie and Grandpa Rupert?” She thought she knew the answer already but wanted to know for sure.

Her parents exchanged half panicked, half relieved looks before Myka spoke gently, “Yes, Sweetheart… They spoke to you?”

The teen shook her head. “No, but they were there, saying goodbye.” Sorrowful eyes gazed up at the inventor, searching for any hint of accusation there. She could find none and released the last bit of tension that sat in her belly. “They loved you, Mummy.”

Helena choked back a sob and smiled through her tears – her children only ever used that moniker now when they were feeling particularly vulnerable. “Yes, they did. They loved all of us. I believe they would be very happy to see you awake again.”

Catherine considered her mother’s words and shook her head. “I wasn’t sleeping.” Neither of her parents seemed to have an answer to that statement and she felt a swell of compassion for what they must have endured. “I’m glad I’m alive again,” she told them with growing confidence and found two pairs of arms squashing her into another hug. More scenes from the attack returned to her and she knew that she could help them identify the stranger. “That man knew you, Mum. He said he killed Chrissy. He said he took Ma’s memories.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at her in shock before Myka managed to put her thoughts to words, “What?” She cleared her throat. “Sweetheart, what do you mean?”

“He said I’m like my mothers. He said I wouldn’t escape death like my sister did and he asked me how you were both faring without Ma’s memories,” Cat told them confidently.

Myka’s eyes flicked over her wife’s face, searching for the understanding and recognition that she felt across their bond. Helena knew this man and by the spark of horror in dark eyes, it wasn’t good news. “Helena?”

“Kipling,” HG muttered, half lost in her own thoughts. “It has to be.”

“The man who attacked Christina and me in London?” Myka asked, connecting with the stories she’d been told. “How is he still alive?” She could feel a forgotten hate bubble up inside the inventor and reached to place a hand on HG’s arm.

“I haven’t the foggiest. Being a living relic of history becomes less unique by the day it seems,” she joked, quietly controlling the rage within. With barely any outward indication of the abrupt change, she smiled at her daughter and continued to run her fingers through long hair. “How do you feel, love?” she asked as she slipped back into her concerned-mother role.

Cat shrugged, demonstrating to the relief of her parents that she was still very much a normal teen. “Don’t know.” She played with the button of her Mama’s shirt cuff before a question finally rose into her throat. “What day is it?”

“Tuesday, love,” HG replied and held her breath as she and Myka waited for any kind of negative response to this news.

The teen’s eyebrow arched, seemingly impressed with the amount of time that had passed. Whatever she’d wanted to say flew from her mind. “I’ve been dead that long?” she blurted, regretting it instantly when tears gathered behind brown and green.

“You were in stasis,” Myka explained, hesitating when hazel eyes met hers and encouraged her to elaborate. “I suppose technically, you were gone for about twenty minutes. It’s been almost three days since…” she trailed off, feeling excessively uncomfortable with the direction of the girl’s questions.

“It felt like an eternity,” Helena added, prompting a nod of agreement from her wife.

Suddenly seeing her opportunity, Catherine recovered the words she wanted to say and blurted them out before she could reconsider, “Can I miss school this week?”

Such a normal question pulled barks of laughter from her parents and cut through the sudden melancholy tension between them. No matter that Myka and Helena had endured the death and resurrection of one child already, nothing could prepare someone for the kind of agony that ripped them apart from their very soul. Cat’s passing, regardless of how brief, would form scars that remained with all who loved her.

“Yes, my darling,” the inventor replied readily. “In fact, I think your mother and I would prefer it if you would consent to remain at home for your education, until the summer.”

A strain that the girl had carried the last four years appeared to lift from her shoulders. “I’d like that,” she agreed enthusiastically.

Reading between the lines, Myka shared a quick look with her wife and watched an answering nod. “Once this business with Heracles and the Warehouse is out of the way, we can talk about how you want the next three years to go before you graduate.”

“You mean, I could work at home and not go back?” Cat asked, almost not daring to hope.

“We will discuss it and, together, we will decide what’s best,” HG confirmed.

“Awesome,” the teen grinned, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. She sat up fully and wriggled out from her shroud. “May I have a duvet day today and watch movies?”

Helena chuckled and moved stiffly out of the way. “Of course, love.”

“With popcorn?” the girl continued, sensing that today was a day that she could request any extravagance and it would be granted.

“Yes,” Myka sighed dramatically as she agreed, though her expression held nothing but joy. She and Helena wrapped arms around each other as they watched their youngest drag her duvet enthusiastically from her bed and head for the door.

“And ice-cream for dinner!” Cat’s voice trailed back through the aperture, clear expectation in her tone.

Both mothers turned to look at the other, sharing relief and stealing a kiss before they followed after their daughter with the same emphatic answer, “No!”

* * * * *

Catherine milked the attention and entertainment from her family for as long as she could that day. Fredrick stole half her blanket as he squashed up next to her on the couch and pulled her close, but left most of the popcorn for her when it arrived in the largest serving bowl they owned. Spyder, never one to miss an opportunity when he was allowed to roam freely round the house, jumped up the moment he spotted his human and curled up on her lap.

Arriving just as the second movie began to play, Pete and Lila smothered her with hugs and Cat exchanged a shy, forgiving smile with Jake before he and Sophie had a short battle over their favourite chair. More and more friends and family arrived, filling the house to bursting and giving the fifteen-year-old a surprising insight into the role she played in their lives.

The one person who avoided contact with the revived teen was Christina, who remained buried in her work, conspicuous only by her absence. Though hurt and angry at first, something told Cat that Christina’s self-enforced solitude had less to do with her and more to do with her sister’s guilt over her abrupt departure a little under a week ago. She was tempted to call her out of hiding, into the gentle yet chaotic celebration, but held herself back; a rare sense of compassion and empathy stayed her hand for later.

The ringing of the doorbell late into the afternoon surprised everyone but Pete with the arrival of pizza, and when there were only crumbs and crusts left, Leena ordered everyone into the garden and pushed a drink into each person’s hand.

Cat leant into her brother as both of their eyes searched for the same patch of earth where Kipling had created the grave body of water. Freddy hung his arm around his sister’s shoulders and ducked down to whisper reassurances in her ear, telling her all about the new security measures that were in place. Since pulling her out of the water, he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone. Guilt had sat heavily on his heart; he’d let his guard down and hadn’t been there while Catherine was fighting for her life. All of those years that he’d envied her ability to manipulate their mothers became irrelevant. Instead, he recalled the hours spent in the tree-house, under tables, or hiding in cupboards while dragons, pirates and kings marched against them. She was his friend as well as his sister and he would protect her better in future.

Helena stepped into the spotlight with a folded piece of paper in her hand and everyone fell silent. For a long moment, she simply stared at it and then, inner conflict resolved, she flicked it open.

“The mourner’s path,” she read aloud, her voice clear and unwavering, as if from numerous hours spent practising, “by Eleanor Wells.”

 

“They tell us thus: the mourner’s path,

Is one of length and woe,

Of many steps, of warp and weft,

Of grief from nature’s blow.

 

Love makes us rich, your heart’s a bank,

In which you can invest

Time spent beside those who find,

In us, the yen to test.

 

At Death’s last call, we pay the price,

For all of those beloved,

Broken-hearted, solemn-faced,

Tears fast fall behoved.

 

But weep not long for want of me,

Love made of me immortal;

Just think back to a moment when,

Together, we did chortle.

 

You’ll find at once a place within

Where, ‘ever we may lie:

A paradise of our own making,

A land where none need cry.

 

So, walk the path of mourner’s plight

But recall the lesson here:

For all the lives you touch with love,

You’ll be the one held dear.”

 

HG’s voice held strong until the last syllable, when she refolded the note and held it close as Myka’s arm came to wrap around her waist. She looked up to find tears and smiles all around; they understood. Eleanor and Rupert didn’t ask them to hold back their grief, but at the same time, encouraged all of them to find comfort in the good times they’d had together and pass along that love to others.

“Norie always insisted on telling me that life’s pitfalls were equally as important to us as life’s rewards,” the inventor spoke to all gathered. “As a child, a teen and a young woman, I failed to see the wisdom in her words, but since getting to know you all and sharing in your lives, I believe that I finally understand what she meant.

“Life is best appreciated by those who experience both. To only ever have one without the other would be a life half lived. We are fortunate to have one another, and fortunate to appreciate what a life without one of our number might be like.” She reached a hand out to her youngest and stole her from Fredrick’s arms. “Without knowing loss, we could not know our ability to survive and recover. Without knowing love, we could not understand the pain of separation.” She gazed around, measuring her audience for a moment and found them all captivated.

“My grandparents reappeared in my life when I least expected it and left in much the same way. I believe they would find themselves vastly pleased for having managed to surprise me not once, but twice,” she joked and led a short train of chuckles. “They would be most proud of their success in giving of their lives to return Catherine to us. That sacrifice was given freely, without the weight of guilt and I encourage you all to find your own peace with that.

“Though this day weighs heavily on all of us, I would like to raise a toast in celebration of our blessings. Their influence will live on in us. I can think of no better way to honour two such wonderful people than to go forth with that in mind,” she paused and raised her glass. “To Eleanor and Rupert Wells, may we always appreciate the time we had together.”

“To Eleanor and Rupert,” the crowd cheered, bolstered by the speech and their own memories.

HG threw back her drink and released a long breath as the tension drained out of her. As a matter of pride, she had insisted on delivering the eulogy herself, despite her wife’s assurances that no one would think worse of her for delegating.

She was determined to put on a brave face and be the rock that was needed in these solemn and dangerous times, but she felt exhausted after the effort of keeping her grief on ice, so allowed a tiny crack to show. “Enough of this pomp,” she half choked. “Enjoy the day as best you can. There’s a book in the living room for any memories and/or sentiments you wish to share. You’re all welcome to contribute.”

She felt Myka’s arm fall around her waist and leant gratefully against it as she broke from the crowd. Catherine remained tucked against her side and she held onto the teen as the three of them found a quiet space on the edge of the family gathering. Seeming to sense her mother’s need for comfort, Cat forgot about being a teenager who was too old for cuddles and stayed wrapped around the inventor’s torso.

“Helena,” the younger regent began softly. “You’re allowed to take it easy. It’s been a rough week.”

“We cannot be caught with our guard down again,” HG responded firmly as she stroked long, inky hair behind the teen’s ear and let her mind wander over the possible dangers waiting in the shadows.

“Mum, we’ve got this,” Cat crowed. “They keep trying to kill us and we come back stronger!”

“It would be stupid of us to become over-confident and complacent,” Myka cautioned her daughter. The last thing they needed was for the teen to think she was invulnerable. “But neither should we assume that we’re doomed,” she added, addressing her wife. “Waiting is hard but, at this point, there is little else we can do.”

“The Warehouse had better not drag its heels much longer; I do not know how much patience I have left,” HG grumbled tiredly.

The reality of their situation settled on them like a heavy fog and they chatted sporadically for several minutes before Catherine excused herself and went to find Jake. The older teen welcomed Cat with a hug and under the cover of the watchful eyes of their parents, they climbed up into the treehouse and disappeared from view.

“You have had ‘the talk’ with her, haven’t you?” a voice rose from close beside the Wells-Bering couple and they both turned to find their eldest skulking in the shadows.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Myka greeted the young woman and pulled her close. She could feel the weight of guilt and responsibility on her eldest daughter’s shoulders and wanted nothing more than to take it away. Sometimes the only thing a parent could do was to hug their child and promise to be there when needed. “She received the same talk you did. Somehow though, I don’t think your sister is going to need to fall back on that advice with Jake… or any other boy.”

Christina’s gaze flicked up to the treehouse and back, surprise painted liberally on her face as she interpreted the hidden meaning. “When did that happen?” she wondered aloud. How had she missed such a huge announcement?

Helena heard the self-deprecation in Christina’s words and instantly felt sorry for causing her more pain. “It’s hardly surprising that you haven’t noticed. You’ve been understandably occupied, love,” she excused the young woman.

“How long?” she asked again, her tone hardening.

Myka sighed. “Abigail hinted at it a couple of years ago, but we’ve noticed more obvious signs recently.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?” CJ asked sullenly, her mood shifting rapidly from annoyed to upset.

HG frowned and patted the seat next to her, encouraging her eldest to sit down. “Darling, did we make time to tell you about Fredrick’s suspected orientation? Or tell him and Catherine about yours?”

Christina shrank further into herself and shook her head. “No.” She caught her mother’s raised eyebrow and knew that she was expected to know why. “We are each our own person without pressure to adhere to a label – no matter what that label might be,” she recited deadpanned. “I still feel bad that I didn’t know. You guys kept telling me that I was spending too much time alone, but I just thought that the research and training was more important. Fat lot of good it did!”

“Love, you are no more responsible than us for what happened with Catherine,” Helena assured her. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I should’ve been here, not half way around the world trying to prove a point,” she berated herself.

“If we’ve learned anything, love, it’s that the past cannot be changed. Do not drive yourself up the wall with regret for the things you cannot undo,” HG pleaded. “You know enough of my history to know the perils of such a pursuit.”

Suppressing an eye-roll, Christina nodded. She was tired. Fed up of waiting and keeping her life on hold to prepare for an uncertain future. Her moods were becoming increasingly dark and she was aware that she was alienating the very people for whom she had worked so hard to protect. Her mothers were constantly advising her to slow down and pace herself, to see the team that consisted as the whole family and not just one martyr – the person to save them. It galled her that Helena and Myka had been right. Any time that she thought she had reached or even surpassed their efficiency and success, she found herself feeling like a child again; in the shadows of two giants. After her inattention had almost cost Freddy his life, she’d pulled her socks up and kept her nose against the grind stone. Now, four years later, she felt like all of that effort had been worthless. One little argument and she’d snapped, sending her on a reckless mission and resulting in leaving her siblings vulnerable again.

Despite her mothers’ attempts to quell her concerns, Christina found no reprieve from her turbulent thoughts and suffered in her own silent purgatory for the remainder of the day. She smiled and nodded in all the right places, but her heart wasn’t in it. From the corner of her eyes, she watched her brother and sister, wishing that she could change recent events for the better.

She avoided the living room and the leather-bound book that now held numerous words of love and admiration in memory of her great-grandparents. As she’d felt responsible for her sister’s passing, so she now felt accountable for theirs. Without her rash actions, they might never have been pushed to give their remaining years to replace Catherine’s.

Cat’s accusations had hit a nerve for a reason; ever since finding out that she had died and been resurrected, she had envisioned a life filled with higher purpose. Though she’d never consciously thought of herself in terms of being more important than her siblings, deep down, she’d nurtured the idea that her existence was special in a way unique to theirs. After Freddy’s brush with death and now Cat’s miraculous return to the land of the living, she began to question every decision of the last decade.

Several hours later, lying beside Thomas and staring at the ceiling, Christina decided that sleep wasn’t going to come easily that night and slipped from the covers, being careful not to wake her lover. She pulled a robe over the simple shorts and t-shirt she’d worn to bed and hesitated by the door, looking back at the sleeping man.

It was good to have him back by her side, but she hoped that the distance she felt now was something that would fade in time. For so long, Thomas had stood by her with hardly a complaint. Though memories of their time together in Limbo had eventually returned to her, she’d always looked back on them like witnessing the lives of two familiar strangers – like characters from a beloved children’s fairy tale. She remembered comforting a six-year-old boy and reassuring him that she would keep him safe.

But he’d grown and she’d eventually lost that pseudo-maternal instinct that little girls sometimes felt for their peers. That innate urge to protect and nurture had abandoned her when her inability to remember her friend from one day to the next had allowed fear into their interactions and she’d stopped wanting to see him altogether. Even after that, he hadn’t given up on her though and was a vital ingredient in her successful release from Limbo. Where would she be now if he’d decided she was a lost cause? Would she still be an eight-year-old trapped in an artefact?

Her feet carried her along the upstairs corridor until she reached her sister’s room. She stared at the woodgrain of the door for several seconds and wondered where the years of always open doors, spontaneous nudity and escapee-socks had gone. Cat had reached that age now where privacy and secrets were foremost in her mind and where she rarely forgot to shut out prying eyes from her sanctuary. Christina could only assume that the haphazard throwing of clothes continued to decorate her sister’s bedroom floor from behind the closed portal.

They were children no longer, she realised abruptly. All the time that she’d dedicated to research and training had removed her from the very thing that she wanted so much to protect – her family. They had aged during her absence and she’d failed to see it. Sure, there had been weekly dinners and regular gatherings of the entire clan – she’d attended each engagement physically – but her mind had been consumed by destiny and devastation for so long that the comfort of loved ones had seemed like more of a burden than a gift to be appreciated.

Barely noticing the tears that now streamed down her face, Christina took hold of the door handle and slipped inside her sister’s room. She hadn’t found the courage to face the teen in the stark light of day, but her chest ached from the effort of holding in the huge jumble of emotions that wanted to pour out every time her gaze landed on the youngest Wells-Bering.

Relief sank into her and drowned the din for a moment as she watched the rise and fall that signalled life – a contrast to the body which laid so still beneath a white sheet just a day ago. She wasn’t aware of making any noise but knew that she must have done something to disturb the peace in the air when the figure in the bed shifted and hazel eyes blinked open to fix unerringly on her own sorrowful expression.

Cat stared for a while, perhaps trying to decide if this unexpected appearance was real or a figment of her imagination. Eventually, with nothing but a tentative smile, she lifted the covers and made room in the narrow space, wordlessly inviting her sister in.

A sob escaped Christina’s throat, her legs carrying her across the short distance in the blink of an eye to slide beneath the safety of a duvet. For the first time in their lives, the older sister sought comfort from the younger and buried her head against Cat’s neck, salty rivers painting the skin there. “I’m sorry,” she cried mournfully. “I’m so sorry, Cat.”

* * * * *

The early rising of the sun did nothing to stir the occupants of the house and all remained quiet until mid-morning. HG, Myka, Freddy and Thomas had finished breakfast, cleared their plates and were chatting over tea and coffee before the question of the sisters’ whereabouts arose.

“CJ slipped out in the middle of the night,” Thomas told his girlfriend’s family. He’d rolled over in the early hours to find an empty space next to him and waited in vain for her return before going on a midnight hunt. Anger had consumed him briefly as he anticipated finding her buried in work again, but when he’d eventually found her, all of his resentment melted away. At the raised and worried expressions suddenly facing him, he elaborated, “She found her way to Cat’s room.”

Relief passed simultaneously over both regents’ faces. Neither looked as if they’d slept much and the atmosphere in the room quickly became subdued again. The minutes crawled by, forcing inane small talk out of each of them as they unconsciously held a collective breath and waited.

It was impossible for them not to have seen the slumped posture that Christina had worn since arriving home from her solo-mission. It was obvious that the feeling of responsibility lay heavily on her shoulders and they all hoped that time spent with Cat had helped to relieve her of some of that weight. So, when the teen wandered into the living room an hour later, slumped into her usual spot on the long couch and rolled over to groan into a cushion, hope seemed lost.

Abigail had advised the regents not to give the girl too much leeway as it might create more feelings of insecurity rather than helping her to heal, but neither mother moved for several minutes as they waited to see what the girl decided to do next. At the sound of feet on the stairs, Cat huffed and grumbled incoherently as she rolled back over to scowl at the doorway. Christina appeared, looking surprisingly well and refreshed, prompting a growl from Catherine and expressions of bewilderment from the onlookers.

“What’s going on here?” Myka spoke up at last. She could feel Helena’s pleased surprise at the renewed energy in their eldest daughter’s entrance but they shared a cautious confusion behind the joy.

Christina ignored her Ma’s question. She simply smirked at her sister’s attitude and crossed arms over her chest. “Come on, Kitty Cat. We had a deal,” she taunted. “Unless you want the world to see your Lego PJs, you need to get dressed.”

Much to everyone’s astonishment, the fifteen-year-old pushed her body off the couch and stomped out of the room. Her footsteps faded up the stairs with more vigour than expected and four pairs of eyes narrowed in on the young woman left standing in the teen’s wake.

With some of the wind falling out of her sails, Christina shrugged sheepishly. “She’s been bugging me for ages about having more input in what I’m doing for the Warehouse. You guys said I could include her at my discretion, but I just…”

“You haven’t wanted to put her in danger,” Myka concluded, recalling the amount of resistance that Christina had expressed towards her sister’s involvement.

“It didn’t make any difference, did it?” CJ noted bitterly. “I spent so long trying to shelter her from this _thing_ that I thought I should carry alone and we lost her anyway.” She felt self-loathing creeping into her thoughts again and almost sobbed when HG’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close to her mother’s comforting scent. “You kept trying to tell me that this was all of our fight but I…”

“Your life has been anything but normal and you made that leap anyway. What would be the point of all of those extraordinary events if they weren’t to herald the coming of a saviour?” Helena said, voicing her daughter’s thoughts.

“It was stupid,” the young woman sniffed. “Arrogant.”

“I’m afraid that arrogance is in your genes, darling,” the inventor teased as she stepped back and gave her daughter room to gather her frayed emotions. “My apologies. However, you are fortunate enough to have a fair amount of Myka’s humility mixed in there too. If you can learn to eat humble pie with so little interference from the rest of us, you are already a step ahead of where I was at your age.”

Christina smiled and nodded her thanks. “Well, we’ll see how much Cat likes her new-found responsibility when she sees exactly what I’ve been doing these last few years.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberated at length over sharing my poem here. I considered keeping it to publish at some future date, but I couldn't think of anything else that would fit so well into this story, so there you have it! FF wouldn't let me separate it into verses for some bizarre reason, but there are supposed to be four lines to each verse.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely comments!  
> I hope this chapter redeems the squads' worth for some of you.

Heracles drummed his fingers against the table top as he listened to a report from one of his drones. Everything was running on schedule; his people were in place and prepared to move on his command. He’d lost his dream-link with the Wells-Bering champion and missed having an opportunity to congratulate the young woman on her first kill. Though he regretted the loss of his favourite companion, the voice in the back of his mind knew that Christina Wells-Bering would be reeling from her actions and lamented being unable to salt that wound. There might still come an opportunity when they finally came face to face and he put the thought away to revisit later.

He had truly believed that Cassandra would be with him until the end. His faithful commander was strong and resourceful, she had experience of combat that spanned centuries but was defeated by a woman (barely a woman) who had only ever played at war. Conflict played within him; his conscious mind flicking between anger and… sorrow? – he wasn’t sure that he recognised that emotion any longer – but the voice dismissed his feelings and set him back on the path. Cassandra would have served her purpose in life or death; either by bringing the champion to them, or by testing her fortitude. The voice placated him with the notion that they could honour the commander’s contributions when victory was theirs. Reluctantly, he put aside the pain in his chest and trusted the influence inside him, as he had grown used to doing.

He’d underestimated Christina’s skill and her survival instinct. He thought he’d worn her down and pushed her far enough past the point of caution to make her careless, but she was more resilient than that. Yes, he’d sowed the seed that took her to Cassandra’s campground, but she hadn’t let her failure cripple her. A mixture of excitement and apprehension gripped him with this information.

With Miss Wells-Bering’s unresponsive slumber closing off one option though, he turned his attentions more fully to his offspring and his plans to retrieve the boy. Through Ansgar’s dreams, he’d made contact and over many weeks he’d managed to regain the trust that they’d had before Mathild’s flight. Taking advantage of Ansgar’s age and naivety, it had been relatively easy to persuade the young boy of his sincerity and to sew doubt regarding his ward.

The boy would find a way off the caretaker’s island headquarters somehow. Once that happened, Heracles could send someone to pick him up. If Mathild tried to interfere, he would find a permanent solution for her, and not one as comfortable as given to the boy’s mother.

He had to give credit to Miss Donovan; however she had chosen to hide her headquarters from his sight, it worked well. Even through Ansgar’s night time memories, he had been unable to figure out where precisely the island lay. It wouldn’t make a difference to him in the end he was sure, but it irked him that the young ones had managed to deceive him.

The more challenging his opponent, the sweeter the taste of his victory would be. Over a millennium, he’d proved his worth time and again – discovering Claudia Donovan’s whereabouts and seizing the Warehouse from her tiny army might be more perilous and problematic than he’d calculated, but his determination was buoyed by the challenge that rose before him.

As the drone finished and returned to its seat, Heracles smiled coldly. It was time to move to the next phase.

* * * * *

Time continued to move along the way it always does: without consideration for feelings or the other needs of mortals. So, your entire world has just been turned upside-down? So, you want to curl up into a ball and pretend that you don’t exist for a few days? Time will not wait for you, so you’d better be prepared to sacrifice that portion of your life.

A loving, caring family can help to ease the process along though. In the Wells-Bering house, there was always someone to turn to when the weight of the world was upon you. Serious talks were draining though so, after a couple of days, they knew they had to take a break for something frivolous…

Tears of laughter dripped off the end of Myka’s chin as she sat at the table in the old playroom with her family. The sound of jollity was still slightly discordant with the grief that lingered, but it was the balm that soothed a wound. Drinks and bowls of snacks littered the surface around the game they were playing. Forgotten by Myka, Pictionary was the great equaliser amongst them. Helena might have some ability with drawing technical diagrams for her inventions but when it came to quick sketches of the everyday, her efforts fell short, and the result caused uproar.

“Now I can see why you refuse to play this game,” Myka wheezed through a gulp of much needed air. She clutched a hand to her chest and tried to breathe through the chuckles, but her gaze fell back on the picture and she collapse again into hysterics.

Cat stood behind her American mother, her arms falling either side of the regent’s shoulders as she hid and threw comments at the inventor. “It looks like when Spyder threw up that frog-spawn that he ate!”

HG’s eyes narrowed playfully. She couldn’t say that the events of the last few days had been fun in any way, but renewed closeness with her children was the silver lining that made it all bearable. Seeing smiles and hearing laughter in the house again made her heavy-heart lighter, her grief less acute.

“That is precisely what I was going for,” she bluffed and pulled on a veneer of confidence. She picked up the card she’d pulled from the pile and held it up to read. “Cat vomit consisting of pre-formed amphibians.”

While no one truly believed that statement, Cat insisted ‘It doesn’t say that!’ and made a move to grab the card, beginning a spirited tussle with her Mum. Freddy and Christina began conferring in whispers as they tried to guess the actual answer, while Myka picked up the empty popcorn bowl and made her way to the kitchen for a refill. As she placed the bag in the microwave and keyed numbers into the timer, she had no idea that it would count down to the attack.

* * * * *

Kipling seethed as he stared out at the back of Wells’ house. The bitch had done it again – after all the effort he went through to bide his time and wait to find the youngest spawn at a vulnerable point, he found now that the girl was alive again. He’d felt so sure that the teen’s death would derail Helena Wells, crippling her irreparably, but there they were, playing and laughing, like nothing had happened.

Back in 1891, after HG Wells returned from France with a child, who she claimed was the orphan of a family servant, he’d been certain that she would be dismissed from being an agent. No matter who her personal connections were, surely there was no sense in allowing the woman to continue chasing artefacts when she was should be at home with her child. After the incident with the American, where he’d been a little heavy handed in his role, he’d had to jump through several hoops before being allowed to serve (on a probationary period) as an agent. When HG waltzed in not six months later, inserted herself into an investigation that had been giving him trouble and tracked down the artefact within the space of two hours, he decided there and then that if he ever had an opportunity to take her down a peg or twenty, he wouldn’t hesitate.

More than once she foiled his plans, but his eventual dismissal came as a blessing in disguise. It was this freedom from the Warehouse that had provided him with the opportunity to follow Wells’ child to France. Watching the girl, he noted the illness that kept her housebound and, with a few whispered words near a den of thieves, convinced two scoundrels that the wealthy residence was ripe for the taking. He had thought only to begin a reign of terror on the child and thus force HG to abandon her post, but on hearing of the eight-year-old’s death, he felt victory in all of its glory.

Shortly after the funeral, of which he’d observed from afar, Cassandra had approached him and taken him to Heracles. While Kipling’s victories had been short-lived so far, today he had his heart set on the ultimate prize.

He’d crowed long and loud about his success in killing the youngest girl and now he looked like a fool. Wells seemed to have a knack for showing him up to his peers, but she wouldn’t do so for much longer. He’d had the order to advance and his team needed to make their move before the next patrol came past.

The young man who courted the elder Wells child – the first of Kipling’s victims – he and a small group had buzzed around like flies on dung since the last attack on the family, leaving Kipling feeling slightly nervous that his actions had disrupted Heracles’ plans after all. If he could get his men into the house before the body guards returned, he’d be home free.

With a wave of his hand, two dozen bodies appeared behind him as if out of thin air and began to swarm into the Wells-Bering’s garden. She would not escape him again! He had nothing to live for but this and not even fear of his master’s wrath would stop him from carving out his own path.

* * * * *

After the disaster of responding to the fake S.O.S, only to lose the youngest of their charges to the enemy, Alpha Squad were operating on high-alert. Squad leader Thomas, aka Ant, had them running regular patrols of the area around the Wells-Bering house, just waiting for an attack. Claudia assured them that they would be needed before too much longer, and it appeared that today was that day.

Without the wards working, HG and Myka had been forced to resort to conventional means for early warning. Everyone was well versed with the family’s escape plan and the second their communicators lit up like the fourth of July, they dropped everything they were doing and converged on the house.

Ace was already on scene, her perch in the treehouse offering her a great view of the treeline and the small army that appeared as if out of thin air. Knowing that backup was on the way, she picked up her rifle and took aim.

“Simon says freeze,” she whispered to herself and hugged the trigger gently.

The first shot hit her target in the chest, dead centre. The charging woman shuddered to a halt, the tiny projectile sending shocks through her body and knocking her to the ground. Ace didn’t waste time checking whether the tesla bullet had done its job, she simply shifted her barrel and sights to the next target and squeezed. Four of the enemy’s soldiers met this fate before the rest of the squad arrived and began their struggle to secure the house and its grounds. As Ant, Ark and Aggie took up the fight, Ace paused to reassess the battle.

They were outnumbered six to one and she hoped fervently that the regents and their family had managed to reach the basement. A man in a waistcoat appeared to be leading the attack and had made swift progress across the lawn, flanked by two brutish-looking comrades. At the back of the house, the trio paused to look around before the two thugs picked up a hefty plant pot and rammed it against the door. Ace shouldered her rifle, preparing to put a stop to their advance but paused as her gaze swept the scene below.

All around there was evidence of the squad’s successful teamwork; several bodies littered the ground and in a matter of only a minute or two, the ratio had evened out considerably. Before any of them could begin to feel pleased by this result though, the enemy, who should have remained unconscious for several hours, began to climb back to their feet. Where the garden had been half-filled with ‘sleeping’ figures, it quickly returned to a battle field and Alpha Squad found themselves once more overwhelmed.

Ace weighed up the options and re-adjusted her rifle so that it homed in on the cannon-fodder again. Down on the ground, Ant directed his two other squad mates as best he could in the chaos and tried to thin out the opposition with a more concussive attack.

Claudia had been busy over the years, making her own line of tesla and goo weaponry, continuing with the offensive, non-lethal theme, but she had listened when her squads had suggested the need for a backup. While guns might have no place in a civilised society and no one wanted to end another person’s life, they all agreed that there needed to be prepared if they had to make that choice, so live ammunition was added to their arsenal. That was a last resort however. If goo and electro-shock didn’t fell their enemy, the redhead wanted to incapacitate them in another way. Claudia’s solution? The Itty-Bitty Bronzer!

Ant took a breath between flurries, conserving his energy and giving himself micro-seconds to figure out the enemy’s plan. So far, all he could devise was their use of sheer numbers to cover for the few who were attempting to gain entry into the house. Unlike his own troops, these soldiers were expendable and he wondered whether Heracles had hinged his plan on the belief that the ‘white-hats’ wouldn’t immediately try killing.

With enemies at the gate and his girlfriend and her family needing time to escape though, he knew he had to change tactics, and quickly. Never mind that he didn’t really understand the caretaker’s rambling explanation of how the weapon worked, Ant always paid close attention to the part where he learned how to use his arsenal. Reaching to the small of his back, he removed an odd, triangular shaped device and wound his fingers into the handle.

“Switch to IBBs!” he called into his communicator and pointed the weapon at the nearest opponent.

A rusty coloured wave of energy flowed unerringly from the end and suffused the enemy soldier’s upper body. It took a few seconds to take effect and Ant was forced to fend off another attack before he could fully assess the results. With one free hand, he landed a punch on a square jaw and followed with a leg sweep, bringing the man to the ground. Acting on impulse, he aimed once more with the Itty-Bitty Bronzer and watched hopefully as another soldier froze. Before anyone else could grab his attention, he glanced back at his last target and tempted fate with a smile. A hard case of bronze covered his assailant and though eyes continued to blink behind a translucent mask, the woman didn’t appear to be going anywhere for a while.

At last, Alpha Squad’s efforts began to make a difference and gradually brought the garden-battle to a stand-still. While trying to cut through the crowd, they’d lost precious time and one look at the house confirmed the squad leader’s fear – the enemy had managed to make their way in. The large window to the games room lay shattered on the ground and Mr. Waistcoat had disappeared with his cronies. Ant knew that he needed to investigate before more time passed, but first he needed to liaise with his team. It would be no good if he raced inside only to leave the exterior open to further attack.

Pushing his anxiety for Christina from the forefront of his mind, he called the squad together and laid out his plan, “I don’t know why the tesla bullets didn’t work on these guys and I don’t know how long the bronze will hold them,” he explained quickly. “But the house has been breached and we need to check inside.” As the closest person to the Wells-Bering family, he wanted to be the one to go, but as the one in charge of the squad, he knew that he needed to remain outside to co-ordinate the others. “Ace, I want your eyes back up in that tree, I’ll hold the ground with Aggie at the back door while Ark goes inside.” He turned to a young man only a few years older than himself. “Ark, any hint of trouble and you radio in, understand?”

“Aye, aye,” Ark saluted and took off running towards the house, his path winding around the frozen bodies.

Stepping carefully over the piles of broken glass and furniture, Ark made his way through the games room, living room and into the hallway. Passed the stairs, he found the door to the basement in pieces and paused to swap his weapon for a standard gun. If the regents were in any kind of trouble down there, he couldn’t waste time waiting for the IBB to take effect.

He hovered in the opening for several seconds, listening intently. As far as he could tell, nothing in the basement was moving, but he trod carefully regardless. Not only was the descent liberally covered in bits of broken door, he didn’t want to risk tipping someone off if anyone was waiting down there.

Cautious steps took him down to an atrium where he paused again. To his left, a door led to the old school room and HG’s lab, to the right, an open door offered a portal to the family’s escape route where the teleporter had been moved in preparation for this day. A quick glance around the door frame confirmed his hope that there was no threat of attack waiting, but despite this, his heart dropped into his stomach; four bodies littered the floor and a pile of ash sat against a wall. Two lay on their stomachs, arms tied behind their backs and wriggling uselessly, but the other two lay unmoving.

Reaching for his communicator, he called frantically into the mic, “Regents down! I need a medic in the basement STAT!”

* * * * *

The microwave pinged at the exact moment that the perimeter alarm was tripped, giving Myka a second of confusion as she tried to separate the two homogeneous sounds. Shouting followed, both from inside and out, and chaos erupted.

Abandoning the popcorn, Myka fled the kitchen and met her family in the hallway. Helena was already herding their children towards the basement when a sound akin to a battering-ram hit the back door. Cat jumped and grabbed the back of her brother’s t-shirt as Freddy led the way down the stairs. The exterior doors had locked automatically when the alarm sounded, so they had a few seconds of reprieve, but the regents exchanged a look and a thought – how long would it take before the home-invaders tried to break through the windows?

Christina’s phone buzzed as she stepped towards the basement and she paused to read the screen. “Tommy’s outside,” she whisper-shouted before pressing her thumb to the home button. Ignoring her parents’ gentle shoving, she swiped the screen and began to read, “Alpha Squad have engaged.”

Seeing the reluctance to move on the young woman’s face, HG grasped her arm. “They will do what they can to secure the area then. Our job is to get to safety.”

“I can help them,” Christina hesitated.

“Sweetheart, if _you_ stay, Freddy will, and if both of you do, Cat will. We have to leave. Now,” Myka insisted, her speech fast and edging on frantic. “Once we’re gone, Alpha Squad will have fewer risks to take.”

Christina nodded and shoved her phone into her pocket as she disappeared down the stairs. She would text Thomas the second the transporter spat her out on the other side; once he knew that they were safe, he could take a step back. HG and Myka followed, bolting the door behind them just as glass exploded from the direction of the games room.

Having rehearsed their exit strategy a dozen times before, they each grabbed a bag from hooks on the wall and gathered around the inventor’s latest masterpiece. The transporter came to life with the push of a button and they waited what felt like a lifetime for it to wake up.

More sounds of destruction reached them from above and they each tried hard not to picture their home being trampled upon and decimated. Cat’s rigid stance trembled with each thud and shout and she reached out to pull at her mama’s sleeve.

“Ma, I don’t want to leave Spyder,” she pleaded.

Myka gazed down into worried hazel and sighed. She felt horrible for what she needed to say, but it wasn’t the first time they’d approached this topic. “Cat, you know why we can’t take him with us. I’m sorry, but we can’t go searching for him. Our lives have to come first.” She kissed the girl’s head and brushed her hair back. “Trust that he’ll find the escape route that you built. If he needs it.”

Cat nodded reluctantly and lined up beside her sister. HG stood by the controls and gave her eldest a thumbs-up when the machine was finally ready. As they could only travel one at a time, they’d agreed that Christina would go first, followed by Cat, Freddy, Myka and then HG last, so that she could address problems if there were any.

The youngsters disappeared in consecutive showers of sparks, leaving Myka to step up to the plate, but as her fingers slipped from her wife’s, an almighty crash and the sound of splitting wood and bending metal echoed around them. Helena reached for the button to send the brunette safely on her way, but Myka had already jumped down from the platform and stood fast, ready to face whatever horror was descending towards them.

Helena sighed with exasperation and frustration. “Damn it, Myka,” she grumbled and reached for her tesla.

“Did you think for a second that I could leave you alone after that?” she nodded at the door which led towards the stairs. Someone had breached the basement. They’d known that the reinforced door would only hold against conventional attempts to ram it – whoever was coming had to have artefact help. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed a small, glove-like object – a gift from her wife – and slipped it onto her right hand. In the other, she pulled out her own tesla.

A cacophony of falling debris tumbled down the stairs, followed by stumbling boots. A figure appeared, glanced around and then locked eyes with the inventor. HG’s dark orbs widened, and then narrowed with hatred as a growl gathered in her throat. Bringing with him the stench of death, the intruder stepped confidently into the room and two bodies emerged to flank him.

A malevolent gaze swept the room and landed on the hulking, whirring machine. “You never were idle, Miss Wells,” he noted. “A shame it won’t save you today.”

“Kipling,” Helena seethed. She didn’t care that he insisted on using her maiden name to get a rise out of her; she didn’t care that he continued to cling to his outdated views on women; but the knowledge of how much this man had tried to take from her – it bit into her very core.

“ _Agent_ Kipling,” he iterated, his left eye ticking with irritation. “I will finally teach you your place.”

Myka felt rage pouring from her wife and tried to counter it, but it was useless. Her own anger with this particular enemy was strong and each time she tried to conjure something pleasant to think about, an image of Catherine – laid out on the ground, lifeless – came back to her and she felt her teeth clench with the effort not to charge at him.

Helena stood like a coiled snake, ready to strike. She was no longer the impulsive young woman who would have jumped into the fray without care for the consequences. She had grown as a person and recalled the reasons she had to live. It stayed her hand for a moment, but since she and Myka were backed into a corner, there wasn’t much chance of this encounter ending without a fight.

“Capitulate, Helena,” he taunted. “You have lost. Be shrewd enough to realise it.” He waited for the couple to respond – either to surrender or beg for their lives – but they simply stared at him, no hint of alarm on their expressions. Confused and frustrated, he huffed. “There are three of us,” he pointed out needlessly.

“I’m aware,” HG scoffed. “Hardly a reasonable way to end our conflict…”

Myka’s mouth twitched into a small grin. She heard the ridicule in her wife’s words and felt a thrill in her stomach. Even on the cusp of a fight, she couldn’t help falling a little more in love. With nothing else to say, she finished the inventor’s thought, “… You should have brought more men.”

Their defiance cut into Kipling, tangling him in his own sense of self-importance. Incensed by their refusal to bow to his superiority, he sneered and gestured to the goons either side of him. “Don’t let them leave this room.”

Even with the tight space, it didn’t take the regents long to render the two men unconscious. The buzzing of teslas filled the room and the figures dropped to the floor at their feet. For the briefest of seconds, they wondered if their escape would really be so easy, but Kipling’s smirk gave them pause and, before they could blink, the men twitched before climbing again to their feet.

HG holstered her weapon and raised a stoic eyebrow. “I presume we’re doing this with fisticuffs then.”

The thugs’ combined bulk gave them an advantage in the compact space that even kenpo couldn’t help the couple avoid entirely. Kipling hovered, watching with delight as punishing blows rained down on the women. His own men took their share of assaults and more than once were brought to their knees, but not until he spied a clear opening – a moment of vulnerability – did he strike.

Having crept around, closer to his former colleague, Kipling reached into his waistcoat and felt for the small knife that he’d kept for this very occasion. After Bering’s disappearance from 1890 with the Wells brat, the elder Wells regents had convinced their friends to keep a close eye on him. Unable to recover their trust, he’d pushed his boundaries until they dismissed him from the Warehouse’s service. Before leaving, he’d stolen and kept this petite instrument-of-death, knowing that someday he might have a chance to drag its shiny blade across HG’s pretty throat. To silence her smart-mouthed barbs forever. This was his chance.

Wells had excellent balance, but even she couldn’t defy gravity indefinitely and stumbled as she ducked the swing of a beefy arm. Kipling watched as she used her momentum to twist behind her assailant, grabbing a length of cord from a shelf close by. His eyes narrowed as he watched her pull the man’s arm behind his back and wrap him up in knots. A victory. But not for long.

Even as the American caught onto the success and looked for something to hog-tie her own opponent, Kipling wrapped his arms around HG from behind and forced the knife up beneath her jaw. A sound halfway between surprise and pain reached his ears and he grinned. “I have you now… Miss Wells,” he whispered into her ear, his lips hovering close to her skin for a few seconds as he breathed in his conquest.

Myka caught the same shock in her wife’s voice, felt the panic across their bond and pressed a knee harder into her captive’s back as she glanced up to check on the inventor. A gasp left her throat at the sight and she jumped to her feet. She met Helena’s gaze and searched for understanding. How had this happened? How had they come to be at the whim of this Warehouse washout?

A tightening around Helena’s eyes warned Myka that she was in danger before the man at her feet could wriggle completely free of his bonds. She wagered her wife’s life against Kipling’s need to showboat and bent down quickly to make sure her prisoner wouldn’t move again.

“That’s enough!” Kipling bellowed. His eyes took in the sight of his subdued men and rage replaced the gleaming madness of moments before. He didn’t like being outnumbered and his grip tightened.

HG tried to avoid the press of metal against her throat but her fellow Victorian’s outburst shook his body and she hissed as the blade bit into flesh just beneath her ear. She breathed shallowed breaths through her mouth, trying not to gag at the tainted scent, and swallowed as best she could. “What do you want, Kipling?” she murmured, trying to make her voice sound more defeated than she felt.

“Do you remember your first week at the Warehouse, Miss Wells?” he asked, his tone turning sickly sweet beneath his anger.

“Vaguely,” Helena replied honestly. She frowned, searching her memory for that distant time. What did he remember that still had his knickers in a twist over a century later? “I assume that I offended you in some way.”

“Your mere presence was an offense. Bad enough that they allowed a woman into our ranks, but one that cannot control her tongue?” He breathed heavily but his arm dropped slightly. “Less than a week after you first tainted that great establishment, you sought to ridicule and undermine _my_ authority.”

The inventor couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that statement. She wanted to retaliate with a logical argument, but one glance at her wife’s anxious features stopped her. No matter how much she wanted to antagonise him, it wasn’t worth the threat to her life. What kind of artefact could have kept him alive for so long? The downside had to be the putrid smell that followed him around, but as much as the agent in her wanted to solve the mystery of his longevity, she’d never come across anything that caused these effects.

Kipling continued as if reciting a monologue, his attention drifting back and forth. “You have no sense of your place, Miss Wells and you will pay for your impudence,” he threatened. He lowered his voice and pulled her close again, dousing any gathering hope she had of finding an opening to escape. “How does it feel to know that your fate is in my hands? Your deviant lover stands before you, helpless to intervene. What could I do with her once you’ve drawn your last breath?”

Helena struggled against the images her mind conjured but kept her body stiff. How did it feel – to know that his wounded pride had fuelled a vendetta against her that killed both her daughters (however temporarily) and stole her wife’s memories of a happy family? She felt exasperation that his insecurities and dogmatic world view were being thrown at her doorstep as _her_ failing. There was a fine line between respecting other people’s sensibilities and being free to speak one’s mind. Kipling was apparently the type of person who took offence if the wind blew the wrong way. That was hardly the wind’s fault. Or hers.

Barely five feet away, Myka watched like a hawk and fiddled secretly with the gadget on her right hand. A gift from her wife for her birthday, it was designed with her individual skills in mind and all she really needed to use it effectively was a small window of opportunity. The situation wasn’t looking too good though. Even as the disgraced agent flitted between his innumerable crazy thoughts, he didn’t let his guard down for more than a few seconds at a time. It was sporadic, chaotic, and she was all about order, but there had to be _something_ she could do because she simply couldn’t watch her wife die like this!

Myka knew that Alpha Squad could do little to help even if they did manage to make their way into the house and down to the basement. Backing Kipling into a corner might be even more risky than abandoning Helena completely as he seemed to spook at the slightest hint of attack. She seethed, silently, helplessly, waiting for an opening.

Suddenly, a flash of fur broke the stalemate and Kipling flailed as sharp claws sank into the flesh of his forearm. Myka watched the knife fall from his grip and, in the blink of an eye, yanked Helena out of the way. As the inventor tumbled to the ground behind her, clutching her neck, Myka surged forward, propelled by rage. She watched their brave feline saviour fly overhead, twisting to land on all fours before disappearing back from whence he’d come, leaving the regent to tackle the hateful ex-agent.

Caught off guard, Kipling impacted the wall on the other side of the room and shock fell over his face before he realised what had happened. A cat! Really!? Fuelled by panic and desperation, he brought his prosthetic fist wide and swung it back against Myka’s ribs, almost certainly bruising a few.

As a lifelong pacifist in most situations, Myka didn’t condone vengeance as a form of justice, and she certainly didn’t condone pain and suffering when dolling out punishment, but in this case, she was very tempted. The end to a life not her own flashed before her eyes. She imagined the scenario that Helena had explained in great, horrific detail while confessing the madness she’d felt as she tortured Christina’s killers. She imagined not lifting a finger to help while watching him struggle to escape fire ants or quicksand… or both. Hadn’t he subjected her little girl to a similar fate? _Then he deserves it_ , her inner voice shouted. She thought of every medieval torture device that she’d ever read about: the saw, the rack, the knee splitter, the head crusher, the wheel, the wooden horse, and for some reason, the Judas cradle stuck in her mind – not only for the appropriate name but for the absolute agony that he would feel in being ripped apart from his anus upward. A fitting end for a man who had been more than simply a pain in everyone else’s ass.

She longed to beat every last breath out of him and a boiling fury scorched her blood with the intensity of this desire, but enough of the logical, practical agent survived to keep her head cool. She had no intention of allowing him to live long enough to hurt her family again. If that meant a quick death, then so be it.

The regent’s offensive was more focussed, clinical and, though her body ached, Myka saw her opening when it came. Fingers closed around her throat and Kipling raised his iron-fist again, leaving his torso vulnerable. Wasting no more time, Myka pushed a button on her glove and forced the heel of her right hand just under his ribcage. Shock appeared behind the man’s eyes, his arm dropped to his side and the fingers that had wanted to strangle the life out of the American slackened, unintentionally releasing her. He coughed, spluttered and gasped for air before a trickle of blood escaped from the side of his mouth.

Myka breathed once, twice and a third time before relief finally found her. The dark chasm of hatred and malevolence that lived behind his eyes burned out, the hues shifting between pain and astonishment until nothing of substance was left. Life lived in this husk no longer and as the regent retracted her weapon, Kipling’s body exploded into a shower of insignificant dust.

A brief moment passed, and then Myka swayed as her head thundered with some invisible force and she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the lack of anticipated torture in Kipling's long-anticipated demise wasn't too disappointing.  
> Comments appreciated as always!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was anyone surprised by HG's rescuer? I felt like Spyder needed a bigger part in this - he holds a special place in my heart.

Thomas heard the call for medical assistance and almost bolted from his post. He twitched, a foot moving of its own volition, before he froze. Aggie had already disappeared from the back door, having heard the same S.O.S and he had to trust that his squad knew what to do. So long as an artefact wasn’t involved, they could handle most situations.

During the years of intensive training, they’d tried to tackle some curiosities, to varying levels of success, but Claudia had eventually knocked that idea on the head. In her words, they were ‘exceptional muggles, but handling the crazy should be left to the magical folk’. Every agent possessed an indefinable quality that gave them the ability to work successfully with artefacts and the squads were forced to accept that those abilities could not be manufactured.

It hadn’t been very long since the perimeter alarm had been tripped, so Ant knew that back-up was on its way. When it arrived, he might have a chance to see with his own eyes what exactly had gone wrong with the escape. Until then, he tapped his foot and remained vigilant for any more unwanted intruders.

Down in the basement, Aggie found the same worrying scene that had put the panic in Ark’s voice. Her squad mate was crouched over HG, a hand holding a wad of material against the regent’s neck. Her eyes wandered critically over the bound men and after checking Myka for a pulse, she made her way to the inventor.

“What happened?” she asked as she reached for a medi-kit.

“Unknown,” Ark replied. “HG has a laceration on her throat. I didn’t get a good look at it. It didn’t seem too deep, but it hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.”

“Ok, let me take a look.” Relieved to find truth in Ark’s preliminary assessment, Aggie began to clean the cut on the regent’s neck. “Wasn’t there another hostile? Someone in a waistcoat?”

“Yeah, I think that’s him,” he answered and nodded to a pile of ash beside the other regent. Though Kipling’s clothes had joined him in the ash, an iron fist remained sat on top. Ark helped the medic to cover gauze with a large band-aid and then moved with the intention of returning to check on Myka. Before he could completely stand though, the inventor began to stir.

“HG?” Aggie prompted and placed a hand gently against the regent’s shoulder. “The attack is over. You’re safe.”

Helena searched her memories for meaning, piecing together the assault from disjointed fragments, while she brought a bloodied hand up to her neck. She recalled the feel of metal cutting into her skin and the nauseating churning in her stomach as she felt her mortality more acutely.

The voice that greeted her was familiar and the cadence comforting, but it wasn’t the voice that she wanted to hear and she struggled to sit up, her efforts propelled by her desire to know that her wife was ok.

“Myka?” she hissed and forced her eyes open.

As her gaze swept the room, she recalled the feel of Kipling’s arms holding her prisoner, the smell of death that surrounded him, the sudden loosening of his grip, pain in her neck and then Myka reaching to pull her from danger. More than any of that though, she remembered Kipling disintegrating into nothing more than dust in the wind and the pain that filled her mind shortly after.

“She is unconscious but appears to have no life-threatening injuries,” the medic explained.

As Aggie helped the regent to her feet, the doctor in her wanted to scold HG and tell her to stay still for a while longer, but she knew that it would be a wasted effort. Instead, she hovered and followed the inventor across the room.

Helena knelt beside her wife and searched carefully for any sign of injury. Slowly, her panic subsided and she relaxed against the wall so she could lift a head of curly hair into her lap. Her fingers stroked lovingly through spirals and before long, the last vestiges of a frown fell from Myka’s expression and turned into a half smile.

HG smiled to herself before looking back to her companions. “What happened upstairs?”

Ark explained the scene they’d found after responding to the alarm. He told the regent about the ineffectual use of their teslas and listened as she described her own skirmish with the two bound thugs.

“Fortunately, I ignored Myka when she nagged at me to put the last of my equipment away. The electrical cable came in handy, as you can see.” She repressed a shudder when she thought about how close she and Myka had been to finding themselves overwhelmed. “I’m no fan of being bronzed, but I cannot think of a more fitting prison right now. See that you take care of these two in the same manner, once you’ve escorted them from my house,” she added, injecting a little extra pomposity into her voice. Anything to shake off the lingering fear and bring her emotions back under control.

“That pile of dust over there was crazy-determined to break in here. Was he the one…?” Ark drew his finger across his throat in a cutting motion.

Helena touched the surface of the band-aid again, shivered and nodded. “Yes. Kipling was an agent when I joined Warehouse 12. Chauvinistic and self-important – he never quite managed to console himself with the fact that a woman performed better at his job than he.” She paused and recalled the split second between believing that she might die and being rescued by the most unlikely of allies. “That bloody cat,” she mumbled fondly. “I shall never be able to banish him from the house again.” She glanced down at her wife and sighed. “It does not appear as if Myka will be waking any time soon, but we really should follow after the children.”

“Is it safe to transport her in this condition?” Aggie wondered aloud.

“I don’t see why not. It will likely be to her benefit as there will be an infirmary close by with better equipment to diagnose her condition. She is not currently in distress, but I will feel better once we are safely on the island.”

Though Helena was concerned by Myka’s failure to wake, she had a theory about why both of them had lost consciousness in the first place. But until they had a chance to talk, she would just have to wait and hope. Ignoring all of the aches in her body, she pulled herself to her feet and got to work.

Commandeering Ark’s radio, she filled Thomas in on all that had happened and got an update on the goings on above. She begrudgingly asked him to keep an eye out for Spyder and make sure that he was sufficiently cared for before suggesting that he text his girlfriend the moment he had an opportunity. Within five minutes, she’d checked that the transporter was still in working order and instructed the two squad members to place Myka on the platform. Anticipating the panic that would arise from her children at the sight of their unresponsive mother, she wrote a quick note and placed it under the hand that lay on Myka’s chest.

Another shower of sparks carried the unconscious regent away and Helena watched as the two remaining enemy soldiers were strong-armed up the stairs. She stood for a moment and surveyed the room, her gaze eventually landing on the pile of ash that marked the remains of Kipling’s existence.

It was strange to think about the impact that odious man had had on her life. From the moment she had been introduced to Agent Kipling, she’d felt uncomfortable in his presence. His sneer and the way in which his gaze had traversed her body told her everything she needed to know about his views of gender roles in society. It was why she’d taken such pleasure in showing him up at every opportunity. Not a wise course of action, in hindsight, but an enormously satisfying one.

But what if she hadn’t been so confrontational? What if she’d been more of a team player or just less openly smug about her successes? Would Christina still have died in Paris, or might a different tragedy have befallen her? Had Kipling’s desire for revenge been entirely of his own making or had the Warehouse involved itself in order to guide her toward the future and Myka? Whatever the answer to these questions, Kipling was no longer somebody she needed to worry about and she found great relief in knowing that he was dead, even if she did lament the swiftness to his end.

A primal part of her was even slightly aroused by the memory of his last stand against her wife. Knowing that she’d been so close to death and that Myka had acted on instinct to protect her? She felt truly alive and it made her crave her wife’s touch more desperately than usual.

She shook off that last thought and double checked that the machine was programmed correctly for the final transport. Since she didn’t want her latest invention to fall into enemy hands, be misused or accidentally activated, she’d enlisted Claudia’s help to make the controls unusable once HG exited on the other side. Before the day was over, Pete and Steve would arrive to extract the artefact that allowed the machine to work and pass it along to Claudia to store as she saw fit. Helena’s days of misusing artefacts were well and truly over, but it didn’t stop her from feeling disappointed with the loss of so brilliant a contraption.

_If these walls could talk,_ she thought as she stepped into the pod and stared out at her lab. For so long, she and Myka had been forced to live with the knowledge that this day of reckoning was coming, and they’d managed for the most part to make that work. What would happen when it was all over? To live as she imagined average people lived, with hopes and dreams that waxed and waned with the ever-changing fortunes of life? Though family was much more than the place one lived, as she finally initiated the transport, Helena fervently hoped that once the battle against Heracles was resolved, their home would still be standing.

* * * * *

Christina materialised on a purpose-built dais inside the caretaker’s office and immediately jumped off to make room for her sister. Leena stood waiting and before the young champion could straighten up and put on a brave face, the ex-waystation owner pulled her into a hug and didn’t release her until she squeezed back and allowed some of the stiffness to leave her limbs.

There was barely time to smile and offer a quick nod of thanks before a flash of light warned them of another transport in progress. Christina reached to guide Catherine away from the machine and, taking her cue from Leena, wrapped her arms around the shaking teen. “Hey, Cat, it’s ok,” she soothed and squeezed tighter. “We made it. We’re all safe.” She ignored the voice in the back of her mind that warned her not to count her chickens yet and plastered on what she hoped was a confident expression.

“You don’t know that,” the teen replied reasonably, but she had no time to argue her point before another warning light heralded her brother’s arrival. “Freddy!” she cried with relief and dragged him into their little sibling huddle.

Fredrick crushed both sisters with his now man-sized arms and exchanged a worried glance with his twin. They’d known that when the attack came, it would be horrible but somehow, he’d expected to feel more prepared. Instead, he felt like little boy again and he searched for some hint of strength from his older sister. “We made good time,” he consoled them both once he was sure that his voice wouldn’t tremble. “Mum and Ma will be right behind us,” he added, but his confident words tasted increasingly false as time ticked by and nothing happened.

Every minute felt like an eternity and when two turned into five and then ten, concern began to burrow deep into their thoughts. Cat’s repeated _‘Where are they?’_ clawed at frayed nerves but Christina and Fredrick managed to rein in their impatience and irritation to offer comfort instead. Beside the trio, Leena remained calm and provided much needed balance to the tense atmosphere. With a lifetime of experience behind her and faith in Helena and Myka to make it through, she kept the situation controlled. After fifteen minutes though, she knew that the siblings needed more than words to sustain them.

“CJ, why don’t you request another update from Alpha Squad and I’ll text Pete to see if he’s there yet and knows what’s happening,” the older woman suggested. Waiting was torture and she knew that if she could keep them busy for a while then they would endure a little longer.

Cat was not easily deterred from staring at the dais and waiting to see her Mama appear as they’d rehearsed a dozen times. Whether through faith or design, they’d not discussed the possibility of failure once they were in the basement and had started to transport. They’d led her to believe that once they’d begun to leave home, they were out of danger, but something must have gone wrong if it was taking this long. Surely? Her parents would not stall for any trifling thing. They wouldn’t even stop to rescue her cat, which was very much a part of the family (whether her Mum liked it or not). No, something bad was happening at home and there was nothing they could do to help.

Reluctantly, Cat helped Leena with several tasks that she knew the empathic woman invented to facilitate the appearance of time passing quickly. She humoured her siblings too when they requested her help and, even through the fear, she managed to appreciate their efforts. It _was_ better – even in only pretending to be busy – than staring at an empty space where her parents should appear. In fact, when the machine did finally hum back to life again, Cat found that her thoughts had drifted off to school and the desks in the library where she and Andi often sat to study or just doodle and chat in hushed tones. Since being pulled out of school, she’d hardly seen her friend and she still couldn’t decide whether this fact was a blessing or a curse; she missed the flutter of excitement even if she felt better off without the subsequent nausea that often accompanied it.

At the promising sound of someone else coming thought the transporter though, any thoughts of pretty eyes and a mesmerising smile fled from her mind and she ran back to the dais. Freddy’s hand closed around her arm and held her cautiously at a distance but when a figure appeared, lying curled on their side, the siblings jumped simultaneously and moved to help.

Christina grabbed the note as Freddy searched for a pulse and after a cursory scan, she read it aloud. _“Do not fret. All is well. I will follow shortly with an explanation. Love, Mum.”_ She relaxed visibly and smiled at the younger two. “Come on, we’d better move her before she gets squashed.”

“Or before they accidentally meld together to form one giant mutant mom,” Cat suggested, drawing unusually loud barks of laughter from the twins.

They followed Leena through a door into a cosy sitting room and placed Myka on the sofa there. As Leena left them alone, an odd silence fell over the trio. Three pairs of eyes surveyed their Mama and despite HG’s reassurances, they couldn’t help but worry about what this unexpected development might do to their future. With no obvious life-threatening injuries to tend to however, they had to trust that their Mum would have answers when she finally arrived.

“Rick, will you and Cat stay with her ‘til Mum gets here?” Christina asked tentatively. “I don’t want to leave her alone.”

“We’ve got this,” Catherine responded before her brother could even open his mouth. “Go.”

Surprised, not only by the confidence in their sister’s voice but the lack of protest, Fredrick and Christina traded a brief, wide-eyed glance before they grinned at the teen and reached to ruffle her hair. Hazel eyes narrowed and the youngster waved them off in protest, telling them that they were being creepy and to knock it off.

The exchange had barely taken any time at all but Christina was still surprised and disappointed when she returned to the transporter to find only Leena standing there. “Anything?” she asked redundantly.

Leena simply smiled in understanding of the young woman’s impatience and shook her head. “I sent a message to the infirmary and told them to expect Myka there soon. She will be in good hands until she wakes.”

Christina nodded and shuffled uneasily from foot to foot. In the two minutes that would pass before the transporter woke again, she would consider the old adage ‘a watched pot never boils’ while half wondering if an artefact could not be involved in making time appear to slow. It was possible, even if the more likely cause of her current state was an overabundance of adrenaline; the stimulant altering her perception of time to better combat the threat of attack.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she reached up to hold it. Though moments like these were difficult and there would be considerably less of them if she’d decided to remain solo and hit back against Heracles without the support of family and friends, she knew that the struggles were part and parcel of being loved and allowing one’s self to love. The rewards were worth the risk, and if she was entirely honest with herself, the likelihood of success without them was very slim.

When HG finally materialised before them, the young champion felt tears gather and barely waited for the regent to step into the room before she enveloped her mother in a hug. She buried her face against a reassuringly warm neck and breathed there the comforting scent. Even through her immense relief, she couldn’t fail to notice the giant band-aid that covered half of the inventor’s neck though. “What happened?” she asked when they parted and she searched the older woman’s eyes. “You were right behind us.”

Helena nodded sombrely. “Best laid plans, Love. Let us find the rest of the brood and see that Myka is in the best care before I begin. I dislike having to repeat myself.”

After more crushing hugs from Fredrick and Catherine, HG organised her wife’s transport to the infirmary and her children followed. Leena disappeared for several minutes and returned next to Myka’s bed with a tray of drinks and reassurances that their rooms were ready when needed. HG thanked her old friend absently and enquired after Claudia.

“I’m not sure, but she said something earlier about needing to see Artie,” Leena replied apologetically. “Do you need anything else?”

Helena glanced up at the waiting figure and instantly recognised the concern behind those warm, considerate eyes. “No, we have everything we need. You do not need to wait on us, Leena. You’re welcome to pull up a chair, though I do not think that Myka will wake for some time.”

Leena hovered for a moment before deciding that she had nothing more pressing to do at that moment. Grabbing a chair, she placed it next to Christina and looked down at her unconscious friend. “When do you think she will wake up?”

“I cannot be certain,” HG replied as she stroked her fingers through greying curls. Catherine leant into her right side and she twined their fingers together. She and Myka had agreed with the teen that they would try not to withhold information to which the older two were privy, but it was difficult to be entirely honest when the subject had such potential to hurt the girl. “Myka was ready to leave when the entrance to the basement caved in and admitted three of the intruders. I tried to initiate transport, but she refused to leave.” Her loving, if exasperated gaze fell once more on her wife and they all knew that HG would have done the same thing had the situations been reversed. “Two were thugs-for-hire, but the third… I knew him.”

Christina watched their mother’s eyes fall on her sister and knew immediately who that third intruder had been. “Kipling?”

“Yes,” Helena nodded. “The short of it?” she began after seeing the fear rise into hazel eyes. “He is gone for good, your mother and I escaped with only minor injuries and the house is being secured as we speak.”

Cat relaxed visibly but it was Freddy who demanded a more detailed explanation. “And the long of it?”

The inventor worried her lip as she wondered just how much she should share. “His hatred of me ran deep. Our teslas had no effect on his bullies and we were forced to improvise. While engaged in hog-tying my opponent, I lost sight of Kipling and he managed to get behind me.” She lifted a hand to the large plaster on her neck. “I believe he had every intention of killing me. Unfortunately for him, he enjoyed the sound of his own voice far too much and the delay cost him dearly.”

“Ma saved you?” Christina guessed.

“In part,” HG nodded and chuckled to herself. “Though it was the damned cat that gave her the opening to pull me out of the way.”

Catherine’s eyes lit up. “Spyder?”

Helena’s expression softened and she met the girl’s astonished gaze. “He saved my life.”

The teen beamed with pride and joy. “He’s ok?” she wondered after a moment.

“He scarpered before he could be caught, but Alpha Squad have orders to keep an eye out for him and to make sure he is well provided for,” the inventor comforted her youngest.

“So, how d’you know he’s gone for good?” Freddy pushed, feeling like there were still a lot of missing pieces to this puzzle.

HG’s expression softened and hardened all at once. “Myka,” she said eventually and reached for an object that the doctor had removed from her wife and placed beside the bed. “I had hoped when I made this that she would never need use it, but in close quarters, it proved to be invaluable.” She slid it on her hand and, though they knew how it worked, she pushed a button and watched as a fine blade grew rapidly from her wrist. “He didn’t see it coming. As he fell into a pile of ash, Myka and I lost consciousness.”

She watched and waited for her children to piece together this last morsel of information with what they already knew. It didn’t take long. Almost as one entity, three pairs of eyes widened and rounded on her, full of hope.

“It was Kipling who stole her memories of us,” Cat blurted.

“So, now that he’s dead, you think she might have them back,” Freddy finished the thought.

Christina crossed her fingers in her lap and waited for the inventor to answer. “Mum?”

Helena’s cautious but encouraged gaze passed over theirs and she sighed. “It is my hope that Myka’s current state is a consequence of having her memories returned to her so suddenly. It is also possible that in dying, Kipling stole them all over again.”

Cat’s face contorted before a pugnacious sense of confidence returned more fiercely than before. “But you don’t believe that, do you, Mum?”

Pulling the girl close, HG kissed the top of her head and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “I am tentatively optimistic that the former is the reason for Myka’s condition. Though, even if we are not so fortunate, I know that we will find a way to stick together. He did not succeed in wrenching us apart for long last time; any future instances will be less efficacious still.”

* * * * *

It took some persuading, but eventually the Wells-Bering family were led away from Myka’s bedside to eat dinner and take stock of their thoughts before the inevitable gathering that evening. Gamma squad, who were on rotation on the island that month, joined them and around periods of contemplative quiet, tried to lighten the atmosphere with a few tales of their exploits.

As she watched her children closely and thought of her absent spouse, HG managed to find an appreciation for their efforts and thanked each of them with a smile whenever they glanced her way. For all intents and purposes, they were refugees now and it occurred to her that their situation was largely cosy. How many other evacuees had a private island where they were welcomed, cared for and loved? None, she’d wager. Her family was extremely fortunate in that sense and she tried to bottle that feeling – knowing that she would need it in the days to come.

Helena didn’t even bother trying to dissuade Catherine from accompanying the adults when it was time to gather to discuss the day’s events. Christina and Fredrick were quick to relate the teen’s ready compliance and bravery while they’d waited and worried about their mothers, and HG herself recognised the growing maturity in her little one.

Sometime around seven in the evening, they were led into a large building which, once they entered the circular foyer, split off in several directions. Their guide, a petite and wiry woman by the name of Grimm, took a sharp right and the family followed her along a sloped corridor and up a flight of stairs. The squaddie hovered for a moment to wish them luck before she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving them outside the meeting room. HG glanced around at her children’s anxious expressions and lifted a hand to knock, but before her knuckles had even touched the wood, the double doors shimmered and faded into nothing, leaving a large, open archway for them to step through.

If the regent hadn’t been impressed already with the Claudia’s progress, then the sight of the small auditorium went some way towards it. They wandered in after the inventor and immediately began to inspect their surroundings. Even, in Cat’s case, to slide into the first tier of seats and flop into a chair.

“This is so cool,” she muttered as she immediately started pushing buttons and opening compartments.

Though desperate herself to do just the same, the inventor couldn’t help being cautious when it came to her children’s safety and she frowned at the teen’s exuberance. She opened her mouth to offer a word of warning and stepped forward, but a voice rose from behind her and beat her to it.

“Careful, Cat,” the caretaker cautioned from the doorway. Four heads swivelled to look at her and her serious expression melted into a sly grin. “That red button launches an explosion of kittens! Very sharp claws,” she added as if that gave the idea credibility.

The younger three chuckled at the playful tone while HG rolled her eyes and cracked a smile. Despite the recent tension between them, Helena welcomed the redhead and returned the hug that fell on her. “We made it,” she offered as they parted and she searched golden eyes for reassurance.

“And almost in one piece, yay!” Claudia replied and waved her arms half-heartedly. She caught the hint of amusement on the Victorian’s face and cracked a smile of her own. “So, we’re approaching the season finale. Any words of wisdom, oh great one?”

“Apparently, clean underwear is recommended,” HG quipped and allowed a tiny smirk to tug at the corner of her mouth.

The redhead laughed and clicked her fingers as she feigned sudden realisation. “Dang! I knew I’d forgotten something.”

The playful back and forth broke through any residual tension and both women relaxed a little. Claudia offered to give them a short tour while they waited and began by showing them how the seats swivelled so that everyone could turn to see who was speaking in the room. For far too long, she and Cat twirled, making themselves dizzy while pretending that they were on the bridge of a star ship. After letting the pair ‘play’ for a few minutes, Helena cleared her throat and requested that they get back on track.

“Mum, when we go home, can we have a real vacation? Like, to Disney World or something? It’s been ages since we went away!” Catherine wondered aloud. She’d stopped spinning and the momentary joy that lit her eyes began to fade.

The regent felt a lump rise into her throat and she forced back the tears that pricked at her eyes. “That sounds like a smashing idea, my love,” she choked and hoped fervently that at the end of this whole mess their family would emerge unscathed.

There wasn’t time to dwell on their uncertain future as the sound of footsteps and rolling wheels approached the aperture. The family responded to the interruption as one and found Leena pushing a wheelchair with a much-aged Mrs Fredrick sitting in it.

“That will do, thank you, Leena,” the ex-caretaker ordered softly as she was wheeled to the end of the first row of seats. Though now inhabiting a body that was shrivelling like a prune and losing its ability to stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time, Irene Fredrick had managed to retain an air about her that exuded strength and fortitude. Her body might be turning frail but her eyes were sharp as they scanned the room and the mind behind them sharper still. “Miss Wells-Bering,” she began, directing her words at the teen now beside her. “It is delightful to have you with us. I regret not having had the chance to say a final farewell to Eleanor and Rupert, but if there was ever such a thing as a ‘good death’, I believe they would claim to have it.” Ignoring any discomfort that her words might have had on the people around her, she turned to the elder sister. “I trust that we are finally learning how to lean on each other in times of crisis and get along, hmm?”

Christina felt a flush of shame creep along her neck. A glance at her mother told her that the inventor was ready to jump in and defend her, but she had learned to own her failings and stepped up before Helena could begin. “I regret that my actions contributed to so much pain,” she answered and glanced at her sister to share a sad smile, “but since nothing can be done to change the past, I must learn from it or be in danger or repeating it.” _Easier said than done_ , came an answering thought. Guilt continued to plague her subconscious and habits were hard to break, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that she was trying.

“And your willingness to adapt is your greatest strength,” Irene complimented the young woman, though her gaze travelled around all of them and she appeared to grow with her words, giving them greater depth. “All the sword play, kenpo, gadgets and IQ are useful assets, but when circumstances change and we aren’t willing to change with them, we become stagnant, insular, brittle. You are willing to bend with the storm, and so you shall survive.”

The heavy sentiment pulled them all into their thoughts for a moment, but before anyone could find themselves bogged down in their own minds, Claudia cleared her throat loudly and set an amused gaze on her mentor. “Yoda has spoken, peeps. Heed her wisdom before we call the council of Jedi!”

As a few chuckles lightened the atmosphere, HG swallowed the reprimand on her tongue and grudgingly absorbed the old woman’s words. She recognised that her eldest was an adult and also appreciated that her children needed to experience failure in order to grow as individuals, but there would never be a time when she wasn’t ready to jump to their defence. In this instance, Mrs Fredrick’s words had caused little offense and the inventor let go of her anger with a long, slow breath.

Soon after Mrs Fredrick, the room began to fill with other new arrivals – the other three trusted regents, Adwin Kosan, Jane Lattimer and Don Heath; followed by Abigail (who had flown back to the island soon after the Wells elders’ wake); and finally, the whole of gamma squad. They began to file into rows until half of the auditorium was occupied.

“It’s like a lecture hall, only much smaller,” Christina whispered to her brother as they sat in the front row and waited for the meeting to start.

Fredrick glanced around and nodded. “I expected one of those conference rooms with a long table down the middle. A war-room of some kind.”

As the twins chatted and tried to allay their nerves, Claudia approached the lectern that stood off to one side and began to fiddle with something there. She was very aware of the eyes that zeroed in on her and had to remind herself several times that speaking in front of an audience was not new to her. It was however the first time that she’d stood in this room in front of many of the people whom she’d looked up to as a young woman. Without Pete and Steve there to temper the seriousness of the situation, she felt the pressure of her position and had to psyche herself up to the plate.

Time was of the essence though and the caretaker knew that she couldn’t waste it with her floundering. With the push of a button, a large screen rolled down at the front of the room and the onlookers fell silent in anticipation.

“Right then,” the redhead started with false confidence. “This is what we have so far…”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all starting to come together now!

Having spent the night tossing and turning, HG rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn and crept her way back to the infirmary. Sat beside her wife’s bed, she began to feel some of her restlessness fade away and sought Myka’s hand from beneath the covers, but while she felt sure that the brunette was not in any distress, she was anxious to see green eyes open and alert.

During the meeting the day before, she had felt the absence of her spouse keenly. Myka had been by her side through almost every major upheaval since Christina had returned to them some twenty years ago, so the last twelve hours had really messed with her equilibrium. She thought back to the few days when Myka had travelled to 1890 and recalled the constant ache in her chest. After surviving that, she knew she could survive this – she just hoped that she wouldn’t need to wait quite that long; it was close to the longest week she could remember experiencing.

As she held her wife’s hand and absently played with the rings on Myka’s finger, Helena allowed her mind to drift. Because it was one of her favourite memories, she remembered the day they were married and the feeling of holding her new wife as they glided over the space for dancing. Myka had been a vision of perfection in her uniquely tailored dress, with her hair trying to escape its ties as it caught the sunlight and created a halo around her. Each year, on their anniversary, HG tried her best to make her wife feel as special as she had that day. Recent years had been bitter-sweet, knowing that the brunette’s only memories of their wedding were from watching the home-videos they’d lovingly kept, but she hadn’t lowered her standards. Myka deserved one magical day a year and so much more.

Claudia’s update from the day before continued to ricochet around her brain and she was desperate to bounce her ideas off her best friend. Even if Heracles hadn’t physically found a way into the Warehouse, he had definite control over the new director and agents, along with those regents they already knew about. Whether or not all of those agents were aware from where their orders now originated, any question of being able to recruit them in a final conflict was now moot…

_“They’re just agents though, aren’t they?” Christina asked from the front row as she and the rest of the audience stared up at the faces on the large screen. “Aren’t they just doing the jobs that they’ve been told will help people?” She felt a gnawing uncertainty in her stomach at the thought that they might have to fight people who thought they were on the side of good. She’d never had to worry much about innocents being caught in the crossfire; she was having a tough enough time with causing the death of an enemy._

_Adwin Kosan gazed around at the room full of eyes and considered the young woman’s question. “Yes, they are following orders without being given the bigger picture, but we cannot afford to let that stop us. As with any other agent, they will defend the Warehouse from any perceived threat.” He paused and looked to the Wells-Bering children again. They had grown up with the Warehouse hanging over their heads, but they were still largely untouched by the horrors of the world. Yes, each of them had suffered in some way, but for the younger two at least, their consciences were unburdened by the grey moralities that all agents faced at some point in their careers. HG and Myka had taken great pains to ensure that their children had love and acceptance, that they respected life and different cultures, and he worried that this openness would make them vulnerable in the face of an attack. “We are already doing everything in our power to limit casualties, but we must take care not to allow our sensibilities to blind us. As you have already informed us, Miss Wells, Heracles has made a point to recruit from groups who were hostile even before he gave them new purpose. Most will not hesitate to use lethal force and you must be prepared to defend yourselves.”_

_“Is not the point of this hideaway to give my children a place of refuge while we deal with Heracles once and for all?” Helena piped up the second the elder regent finished. Being involved in meetings was one thing, but allowing her children into the thick of the battle was out of the question as far as the inventor was concerned._

_“Mum, this is just as much our fight as yours,” Fredrick argued from beside his twin. He could feel the conflict in Christina; he knew that she agreed with him in principal but supported their mothers when it came to protecting their family. He was more than ready to take on his share of the fighting though. “You can’t shut us out!”_

_“I can and certainly will,” HG reacted, shooting her son a look that could kill._

_Freddy stiffened in his seat and turned sharply, a challenge in his gaze. “I’m an adult!”_

_“You’re seventeen!”_

_“For two more weeks!”_

_HG sucked in a breath of air through her nose and sank her fingers into the plush arms of her chair._ Oh, Myka, I need you here. _She considered the look in her son’s eyes and gritted her teeth against the commands and reprimands that wanted to jump forth. Her eyes closed over the pain of threatening tears. “You’re right,” she muttered at long length. She watched as he opened his mouth to retaliate._

_“I… I am?” Freddy paused._

_“No, darling. You are not an adult. You are seventeen and still my legal responsibility.” She levelled a ‘don’t mess with me’ stare at the young man before softening. “However, you are correct, this conflict affects all of us. I believe that you are old enough to make that decision for yourself. Do not expect me to be happy about it though.”_

_“Mum?” Catherine tugged her mother’s shirt and diverted the inventor’s attention. “I want to stay here.” Ignoring all the other people in the room, she shifted closer and wrapped her hands around a bicep. The weight of the meeting had stripped her of the last of her bravado and the memory of Kipling’s attack sat more readily in the forefront of her mind. “I don’t want to die again.”_

_Any residual stubbornness fled from HG and her son as the regent wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “Oh, love...” She dropped a kiss on the teen’s head and fought back more tears. “You can stay wherever you feel safest.”_

_Gamma squad had begun to chat quietly amongst themselves out of respect for the family moment, but they kept a collective ear out. They all heard the young teen’s plea to be far away from danger and made a note of it. All the squads knew the faces of Warehouse 14’s agents and active regents. They all knew what was expected of them if any of those people threatened the inhabitants of the island or their extended ‘family’. When the argument fizzled out, their attention refocussed and they swivelled back to the front._

_The rest of the meeting consisted of bird’s-eye images of the Warehouse and its surrounding topography. Christina squirmed in her seat as she identified the site where Cassandra had died… Where she’d killed Cassandra. The vivid memories of that week – the lead up and fallout – still tied her stomach in knots. She sucked in several silent, deep breaths before her brother’s hand took hers and squeezed it. It was decided that they would wait for as long as it took for Myka to recover from her bought of unconsciousness before they moved on the Warehouse._

_The time for waiting would soon be over._

“It’s up to you now, darling,” HG whispered to her wife.

Immediately after the meeting, Gamma squad had returned to the barracks to run one more drill before the end of the day. By the end of the week, they were scheduled to rotate duties with Delta squad, who were working discretely in Turkey, on the very border of Europe.

So much of early human history originated from the countries surrounding that region that artefacts and conflicts were always popping up here and there. In civvies, the squads kept their ears to the ground and took preventative measures where they could. Each of them had been recruited for their desire to make a positive difference in the world, without resorting to violent measures. They were saving the world one small community at a time. Swapping roles from time to time gave them all the opportunity to experience working in places that they might otherwise have never set foot.

Staying on that continent was two-fold though. The regents and Claudia were still certain that Heracles continued to run his operations from one of the major German hubs. Though he often moved his people around discretely too, there was enough activity to make conclusions about where they needed to place their defences next, so remaining close by was essential.

Helena gave into her weary body and, after a few moments of debate, squeezed onto the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her wife’s torso. With her head laid on the surprisingly comfy pillow and Myka’s reassuring scent filling her nostrils, she soon began to drift and finally found a couple of hours of peace.

When the tranquillity of the room was disturbed by hissing voices and not so quiet whispers, the inventor stirred and opened her eyes to find all three of her children hovering at the end of the bed.

“I assume that you all have a reason for loitering here?” she griped as she sat up, slid to her feet and pinched the bridge of her nose. A moment of silence passed and she brushed her fingers through her hair as she looked closer at her children. Each one of them was carrying a plate of food and they stared at her expectantly. “You brought your breakfast here to eat?”

“We brought breakfast for _you_ , Mum,” Freddy told her and pushed passed his sisters to hand her his plate.

“You need to eat,” Christina insisted and placed her plate on the bedside table.

“And mine has pancakes, in case you need a sugar rush!” Catherine added perkily, almost throwing them at her unconscious mother in her enthusiasm to offer up her own choice of food.

Despite her fatigue, Helena felt wave of energy flow through her at their thoughtfulness. She relented, sinking into a chair and taking the offered cutlery. “You have all eaten?” she checked automatically before tucking in while her food was still somewhat warm.

“Yes,” Christina answered and skirted the bed, falling into the chair opposite. She took her Mama’s hand, needing the brunette to know that her family was close by. “It’s nearly nine, Mum. We’ve been up since seven. Have you been here all night?”

HG shook her head. “It would have been more conducive to sleep had I left my bed much sooner,” she noted. “I arrived around five however.”

“What are we supposed to do while we’re here?” Catherine asked as she carefully climbed up beside her Mama’s feet. She was feeling a lot more relaxed and calmer after her sister had talked to Thomas the night before and they all heard that their home had suffered minimal damage. In addition, Aggie had found Spyder a few hours after the dust settled, curled up on the teen’s pillow, fast asleep with one of Christina’s old teddy bears. It was decided that he would be better off at the Lattimers’ house until his family could return home and Sophie had already sent them a video of her and Jake rolling objects across the floor for the animal to chase.

“Bored already, Cat?” Freddy teased. “I’m going to join the squad on their drills today. I can’t sit around and wait.” He threw an apologetic glance at their Mum before his eyes drifted to the woman in the bed.

Following her son’s train of thought, Helena set her knife and fork aside and gave him her full attention. “Do what you feel the need to do to, so long as you don’t put yourselves at risk,” she told him, extending the advice to the girls too with a glance. “I will remain here.” She turned her gaze on her wife and smiled a little. “I want to be here when she wakes.”

All three promised the inventor that they would take care not to get into trouble and left the infirmary soon after, taking three mostly empty plates with them since the children had apparently not eaten their fill in the cafeteria. HG sat vigil beside Myka’s bed and made conversation with the doctor when he came by to check on his patient. The chair, being a little more visitor friendly than your average hospital issued furniture, reclined slightly and it was almost lunch time, as she felt herself on the cusp of sleep again, when her ears registered a familiar groan and she jerked wide awake.

* * * * *

Heracles felt it the second Agent Kipling breathed his last. A smile lifted his features, the expression almost reaching his eyes as he rose from his fire-side chair.

The summer’s heat made it unnecessary to light a blaze in the grate, but he’d always found a sense of calm and comfort in staring at the left-over ashes. Even as a boy, after already spending hours gazing into flickering flames and listening to his father weave stories of conquest and adventure, he found a peaceful fascination in what remained once the heat was gone. He spared a second to imagine the hint of satisfaction in Cassandra’s eyes had she lived to hear the news.

Pushing sentimental thoughts of the late commander from his mind, he refocussed; grief and loneliness were for lesser creatures to feel, so said the voice in the back of his mind. His victory was so close that he could taste it now. The caretaker and her Warehouse family were precisely where he wanted them. He only had to wait for his son to return and then… then he would face his father and finally fulfil his destiny.

* * * * *

Myka struggled up through a mire of memory to regain consciousness. Her brain had had time to physically recover from the shock of approximately seventeen years’ worth of images, feelings and experiences being rammed back into her head, but the person behind that brain – the heart and soul of Myka Wells-Bering – needed a little more time to piece everything back together.

Years of the forgotten clashed with the years after; the Myka who remembered the reunion with her British lover, the birth of her children, her wedding and so much more – she wanted to smack the Myka who woke up on a distant continent with no record of those events; she was angry with herself for putting her family through so much dissonance. The other Myka, who suddenly understood the consequences of her anger with new eyes, felt the full weight of her guilt and almost wanted to feel that sting of reprimand upon her skin.

She floundered in the in-between as these two halves worked out their conflict. Eventually, logic wormed its way in through the cracks and reminded them who was truly to blame.

It was the thought of Kipling – the memory of his assault on her in Australia, his tormenting comments about her son, him murdering her daughter, and his vendetta against her wife – these things fuelled a fire in her belly and panic began to rise along with her desire to rip him limb from limb. A voice called to her in the dark, bringing some measure of comfort and she swam instinctively towards it.

As her eyes fought to open, it wasn’t the stark whiteness of a hospital room that greeted her, but calming blues and greens of a place she’d only seen in photographs. It wasn’t the growing awareness of her surroundings and the understanding of how she came to be there that drew her attention though, but the feel of warm hands pulling her close and a soothing voice telling her that the enemy she sought to throttle was gone.

“He’s dead, darling. Kipling is gone. He can’t hurt us any longer.”

Helena listened to her wife’s mumbled panic and tried to find some sense in it. She could feel Myka’s confusion and searched across their bond for its source. Was the brunette remembering their fight in the basement or something from long ago? She did her best not to jump to conclusions either way, but only allowed herself to hope that it was a positive sign that no more of Myka’s memories had been removed. As the panic receded and her gentle words started to have an effect, she felt her wife’s body relax into her arms.

Myka’s warm breath against her neck began to slow but before HG could open her mouth to ask questions, a sob reached her ear and tears pooled along her shoulder. Helena’s own confusion built as shudders gripped her wife and a barrage of emotions crossed their bond. The flood gates had opened and she was hit by concussive waves of relief, love and sorrow.

Tears dripped from her own cheeks as she buried her nose in wild hair and rocked like she’d done many times after one of the children had had a nightmare. Unlike when Myka had woken up in Australia – confused, disoriented and completely closed off – HG shared the stab of each roiling emotion that gripped her wife’s psyche. The longer they sat like that, the stronger their connection seemed to get, until the inventor swore that she could ‘see’ the thoughts that swam around the brunette’s head.

“Darling?” HG asked gently as the onslaught began to recede.

Myka hiccoughed and shuddered through several deliberate breaths before she managed to drag the last broken pieces of herself back together. She started to wipe away the wetness from her cheeks with her sleeve, until a hand appeared in front of her and she took an offered tissue. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, but also entirely renewed and full of life. She dared a glance at her wife’s face and the biggest smile grew from deep within her.

“Helena,” she whispered reverently.

A hand lifted to cup the inventor’s face and she simply stared in awe at the image of the woman she loved so much. Words deserted her. Whatever problems and tragedies had befallen them in the past, Helena had taken the brunt of the suffering and somehow, she kept herself going. She was the lynch pin in their relationship, or at least that’s how it appeared to Myka as she reflected on their life together. Still lacking the means to articulate her feelings verbally, she fell upon a waiting mouth and stole the breath from the inventor’s lips. Her fingers left warm cheeks and sank into silver-flecked hair, pulling Helena closer as she tasted the tongue that pushed wantonly against her own.

Their surroundings faded and HG somehow ended up on the bed, with her wife half-sat in her lap and one hand exploring the smooth curve of a hip beneath Myka’s shirt. There was no doubt in her mind now that Kipling’s death had nullified whatever artefact he’d used on Myka to remove her memories. Once the tears had stopped and green eyes met hers, she just knew that all of those missing years between them were restored. The excitement of such knowledge lit a fire in both regents and they held onto each other like they might perish if they let go.

A commotion at the door, followed by a series of loud coughs and expletives, eventually pulled the couple from their embrace and they surfaced from their delirium to find three expressions of exasperation directed their way.

Unrepentant as always for being affectionate with her spouse, HG smiled and slipped from the bed as if she’d been doing nothing more than quietly reading. Myka took the offered hand and hopped down beside the inventor, a grin replacing her blush as her children overcame their embarrassment and launched themselves at her.

“My babies,” she murmured into Christina’s dark waves.

On top of her old memories, she remembered everything from the last few years, and the amalgamation of the two gave her a new appreciation for the changes in her children. “You’ve all been so brave,” she praised them and paused to study them all individually. They stared back at her and confusion soon turned to realisation.

Cat’s arms were the first to tighten around her mother and her eyes immediately became glassy. “So have you, Mama,” she whispered back.

Myka absorbed the heightened awareness that her youngest was almost as tall as her and that her son now towered above her, and reached up to wipe at a tear that escaped from the teen’s welling eyes. “I’m sorry that I put you all through so much,” she told them contritely, her gaze passing over to her wife after a few seconds.

“Darling, I do believe you’re being ridiculous,” Helena replied, dismissing the apology outright. “I remember what you felt at the point that Kipling attacked you; you fought him and you made sure to let me know how much you love me – how much you love us – before he was able to incapacitate you.” The inventor moved steadily closer to her family until they formed a circle around the brunette. “We’re a team, love.”

Myka gazed into dark eyes and felt her guilt melt away. Helena was right. They were a team. It was understandable that she’d found it so difficult in the beginning to trust Helena, but she hadn’t been entirely unhelpful in trying to resolve her issues with the inventor. Mistakes were made but for the most part through fear and not anger. They’d found each other again and, even before her returned memories, they’d been strong.

After a brief chat with the doctor, Myka tangled her fingers with Helena’s and they left the infirmary. Many smiles greeted them as they took a tour of the island. People who Myka had never met before received her like a celebrity and she blushed, to the amusement of her family. Claudia squealed so loud when she stepped out of the barracks and spotted them that a flock of birds were startled from a nearby tree.

No matter how short lived their reprieve might turn out to be, they were all glad to have a break from worrying what disaster was heading their way next. Even if they couldn’t forget that they were advancing towards battle, they were determined to make the most of their sanctuary.

The Mediterranean sun distracted them in between Claudia’s meetings and the squad’s drills. Catherine found a surprising amount of enjoyment in taking books up to one of the lookout posts and hiding in the shade while she caught up on school work and started thinking about the improvements that she wanted to make to her bike. Perhaps it was the freedom to choose her own program of study, or the fact that there weren’t a bunch of hormone-soaked teens surrounding her. It could have been the natural light and fresh air, or not constantly wondering how she was going to hide her growing attraction to one of her best friends. Whatever the reason, for the first time since her emersion into mainstream education, Cat felt a thirst for knowledge and an enjoyment in learning.

* * * * *

Over the next few days, the population of the island grew. Jason and Steve arrived two days after the Wells-Bering family, and Pete one more after that. Since Agent Lattimer and Lila had decided that their family were better off staying in Colorado, Beta Squad were given orders to remain in the area while Alpha Squad finished cleaning up and returned to base. It was decided (mostly by Vanessa) that Artie would continue to consult with Claudia via the Farnsworth as and when issues arose, but would stay at home with his wife. Now approaching eighty, he conceded that his field days were well and truly over. That didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to stop hounding his former agents with orders though.

By the end of the week, the new arrivals were settled and Gamma Squad was preparing to ship out while the island expected Delta Squad’s return. After another day of meetings, with Myka and Helena leading the discussions this time, the old team gathered in the cafeteria.

“Vif gude i gay!” Pete declared enthusiastically as he reached across the table to snag another mountain of mashed potato to add to his plate. A giggle caught his attention and he glanced up to shoot a wink at his son’s best friend.

Further down the table, his friends were less amused. Helena’s lips curled in distaste and a greenish hue coloured her complexion while, by her side, Myka’s eyes rolled so hard that the green of her irises very nearly disappeared.

“Pete!” the brunette hissed. “Stop gorging. Other people might like to eat too. How do you still manage to be such a glutton?”

Agent Lattimer swallowed and shot a sad look at his friend. “It’s like you don’t know me at all,” he lamented.

As the two pseudo-siblings began to bicker, HG turned to the redhead who sat opposite her. She immediately recognised the expression of nostalgia on Claudia’s face and reached over the table to take her hand. “It does us no good to dwell too longingly on the past, dear,” she said to the surprised look that grabbed the caretaker’s features. “The future is uncertain, yes. But the effort to shape it should not go unappreciated.”

“Yeah,” Claudia agreed slowly as she glanced around the table. “It’s just good to have everyone together. I miss this, y’know?”

Reading between the lines, the inventor considered the darkening circles beneath the redhead’s eyes and made a logical leap. “Do you regret becoming the caretaker? It’s been problematic at times for us, but Myka and I have each other and the children make every hardship bearable. Have you been alone all this time?” she wondered belatedly, worrying abruptly that she hadn’t taken enough time to make sure that her young friend was coping ok with daily life.

“Chill, HG,” Claudia chuckled, finding amusement in the look of horror on the inventor’s face. “I’ve had my kicks, and since I haven’t aged physically, there’s still the chance that I could have sprogs of my own. It’s been a tough few years since Auz and everything that went down after that. I think we’re all just ready to kick this guy’s ass and par-tay!”

“I hear that, sistah!” Pete called from along the table, his mouth mercifully empty of food. “I vote for a victory banquet right here when the dust settles.”

“There’s a surprise!” Christina laughed and poured herself another glass of wine.

“It’s a great idea!” Cat exclaimed and almost leaped from her seat. She could see it now: the cafeteria full of streamers, the tables covered in food, music playing (probably some oldies like Taylor Swift, Maroon 5 or Ed Sheeran) and everyone laughing and smiling. It was an attractive dream to work towards.

Hazel eyes watched the adults in the room and her hopes for a successful outcome immediately began to deflate. They had that look in their eyes – the one that said, ‘you’re adorable when you’re being naïve’. They clearly had different expectations for how the conflict was going to end and whether they should expect casualties. Her vision of family and frolics soured into something that more resembled her great-grandparents’ wake. Her Mama leant closer and did the worst thing she could do to reassure the teen; she wrapped an arm around Cat and kissed the top of her head.

“We will make sure to celebrate when the opportunity arises,” Myka told her daughter firmly. She could see the change in the girl’s posture – Catherine was slowly becoming more aware that there was a chance they wouldn’t all survive. Somehow, she needed to keep the teen’s morale ticking over. “You know what might help?” she asked as an idea came to her, but then she hesitated, second guessing herself. “It’ll probably sound incredibly boring though…”

Cat smiled at her mother and rolled her eyes a little. “Just tell me, Ma. It’s not like I have a hell of a lot else to do.”

The regent frowned at the teen’s choice of words, but decided that, under the circumstances, she would let it slide. “Well, since you’re set on being home-schooled again, I thought you might like to design your own curriculum for next year?” She shared a quick glance with her wife since they hadn’t actually had chance to talk about the subject yet, but she hardly needed to see Helena’s answering smile to feel the inventor’s approval.

“Really!?” Cat blurted, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “So, I could do Shop instead of Language Arts?”

“Nice try, sweetheart, but Language Arts is a required subject. Maths, LA and Science are compulsory,” Myka told the girl emphatically.

An acerbic expression tugged at Cat’s features but as she thought further about how those lessons had played out before she started in mainstream school, her face relaxed. She shrugged. “Fair enough,” she responded and speared a piece of chicken with her fork.

As evening fell, the younger two said their goodbyes and left for their rooms. Fredrick would much rather have stayed with the adults but having spent the afternoon with his younger sister, indulging to the fullest extent their every childish whim, he felt like he should add this latest show of solidarity.

He too was becoming painfully aware of the consequences that awaited them in the not so distant future. Aware that they would be leaving Cat behind when they departed in a few days to defend the Warehouse, and he knew that there was no certainty they would all return, even if they did win. Besides, he was knackered after another full day of running around and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was still seventeen for another week after all.

Behind the dorms, in a cosy section of garden, the others sat and chatted. Anticipation was palpable in the air and there was a hint of urgency and desperation in their smiles, as if a collective consciousness was trying to warn them that this was their last chance to be together.

It had taken time before Helena was convinced that her wife was fully recovered from the events of their escape. Myka had been raring to go after a couple of days but she conceded her family’s need to process the heavy emotions of that day and allowed them to fuss over her. They quickly got used to life on the island and Cat in particular seems quite at home amongst the trees and out in the open air. It touched Helena and Myka to see their youngest finding some semblance of contentment in Mother Nature and they had to work hard not to regret their decision to leave her to the madness of public schooling for so long.

Myka leaned against her partner as they snuggled together on an ergonomically shaped bench. Clearly, Claudia had thought about the comfort of her guests when agreeing the construction of the living accommodations for the island. While military training was obviously an integral part of day-to-day life there, it was unlike any army base the regent had ever visited. Though Pete argued for the ‘brothers in arms’ he’d served with in the Marines, there was more of a family/home feel to their current abode, and Myka felt some sense of comfort in knowing that Catherine would be staying there for the foreseeable future.

Her bigger worry at present was the rate at which her eldest appeared to be consuming Claudia’s wine. She’d been watching the young woman closely over the last couple of days and what she saw there made her heart clench with sympathy. Her hatred for Heracles and his disciples grew steadily the more she thought about her daughter’s life. Whenever Christina emerged from one of her sessions with Abigail, Myka thought about the guilt that her wife still carried for the blood on her hands and despised the fact that Christina now had that same weight on her shoulders.

Though Christina and Thomas were stuck at the hip again and had been since Catherine’s temporary demise, the way they interacted was painfully polite. Myka could only conclude that whatever issues had driven them apart, they continued to simmer beneath their fear that they would die while still being at odds. It was a festering wound that needed to be lanced and flushed out, but by the looks of things, the young couple had decided to batten down the hatches and hope that the storm would pass.

She made a mental note to pull Christina aside in the morning and see if she couldn’t talk some sense into the girl. If she really wanted things to work with Tommy, then hiding away from their conflicts was only going to hinder that. There were a few things rattling around in her own head since having her memory returned that could probably do with airing too; Mama Bear was not entirely happy with her cub’s decisions of late – something she hadn’t entirely appreciated without a history that stretched back further than four years.

Shifting in her seat, Myka turned further into Helena’s embrace and took a moment to appreciate the marvel that was her wife. She felt eyes on the top of her head and smiled, knowing that the inventor felt the limitless depth of her affections. The sky had maintained a deep azure all day, leaving behind a slowly deepening indigo that came alive with stars.

The next morning rose with a similar feeling of tranquillity. As the stars blinked out, the bipedal inhabitants of the island emerged from their quarters and carried drinks, fruit and pastries with them to the garden, hoping to absorb every last second of peace together. Greetings and enquiries into sleep broke the quiet and soon the old group of friends were once more engaged in light-hearted banter. In another time, in another place, this could be a perfect moment. One free from dread and terrible knowing.

That wasn’t to be.

Just as the group brushed off the crumbs and drained the dregs of their mugs, a figure appeared in the garden, her gait a sort of panicked trot as a piece of paper flapped in her hand. Mathild stood before the people she now called friends and took a second to catch her breath.

Through gathering tears, she cried, “Ansgar is gone!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mathild. What is Ansgar up to?


	13. Chapter 13

Shocked silence immediately followed Mathild’s distraught announcement. How could the nine-year-old have left without anyone noticing, and what would possess him to attempt it? Christina was the first to react. Her knees wobbled and she sank into the nearest chair. “He was summoned,” she guessed and felt her stomach drop as all eyes turned to her. “He must have broken into Ansgar’s dreams,” she added, and no one needed to ask who the second ‘he’ belonged to.

“I agree,” Claudia piped up and sprang into action, prompting a frenzy of movement. “We need to find him, and fast.”

Simmering almost constantly beneath the surface now, anger rose up in Myka and she lifted a hand instinctively to find Helena’s. She hadn’t spent much time with the boy, but she remembered the shy, worried little face that had looked up at her the day Mathild had knocked on the door of the bookshop. She recalled the fear in the woman’s eyes and her own admiration for the bravery that had brought the pair to her. Heracles continued to pull apart everything that was good in the world and she hated him for it. Feeling someone’s eyes on her, she glanced up to find her eldest with an unreadable expression fixed her way.

Myka opened her mouth to ask if everything was ok but heard her name and turned to Pete. “What?”

“Mykes, d’you remember that telegraph thingie that made me all paranoid?” Agent Lattimer asked as an idea began to form in his mind. He saw the eyeroll before it could form and waved his arms about. “’Course you do, duh! Well, what if there’s some way to block whatever signal is in the kid’s head with the same song?” he wondered aloud and performed an impromptu dance to illustrate his point.

“I’m on it,” Claudia answered before either regent could marvel over the clever idea or wonder why they hadn’t thought of it first. “I’m gonna go call Artie.”

As the caretaker disappeared back to her bat-cave, the rest of them dispersed to investigate and see where they could offer their services. Since Delta Squad had returned late the previous evening and Gamma Squad had left shortly afterwards, there was little investigation needed into how or when Ansgar had managed to abscond. Security for leaving the island was loose as the population was small and no one was confined there. There was no reason to believe that anyone would need or want to sneak off the island, so the only checks made before launch or take-off were to make sure that any technical issues were discovered and dealt with before they endangered anyone.

Myka agreed with Helena when her wife suggested that she was best placed to work with Abigail to calm Mathild, who looked like she was more than prepared to throw herself into the ocean to chase after her ward. The younger regent voiced her intention to talk to Christina in more detail about the champion’s dreams, but when she looked around, her daughter was gone too.

* * * * *

While all Heracles needed from his son was the location of the caretaker’s island hideaway, something like pride excited his veins as the door to his office opened and the nine-year-old was escorted in. The boy had managed to evade Miss Donovan’s hirelings and sneak aboard their vessel. He’d stayed quiet and still, unconcerned with his body’s needs until Heracles’ own devotees responded to his call. Such competence deserved to be rewarded and he decided in that moment to keep his word on any promises made during their slumbering conversations. The smug voice in the back of his mind quietly agreed.

“Ansgar,” he greeted and looked his son over. What he saw pleased him. He had worried that the old maid’s influence would make the boy soft, but toned arms and a healthy glow to his skin told the story of a child who was used to discipline and working outdoors.

“Vater,” the nine-year-old responded. Wide, brown eyes gazed up at the man in front of him and tried to remember the early years of his life when Lloyd Spenser-Chapman Jr had visited him monthly and spoke to him of destiny and power. He recalled the Schwarzwald, the hands-off approach of a father uninterested in displays of affection and decided to keep his distance out of respect. He had a reason for abandoning his nurse and the people who’d given him sanctuary for the past four years and couldn’t lose sight of that. “Wie geht es dir?” he asked, hoping to appear civil.

“Gut, danke,” Heracles replied and gestured to an empty chair before waving a hand at the escort to tell him to leave. “Let us waste no more time. You speak the common tongue now, I hope?”

Ansgar nodded. Though he preferred the feel of his native language in his mouth, he couldn’t have stopped himself from learning English after spending so long listening to the people on the island and conversing with them. A tiny pull in his stomach reminded him of how well they’d looked after him and how much fun he’d had in working (and sometimes playing) with each and every one of them. He missed them already, but if he was going to get what his father had promised him in his dreams, he couldn’t back out now.

“Yes, I do,” the boy confirmed and took a seat.

“Excellent. I am gratified to see that you have not been idle during your absence,” Heracles commented, as if they’d only been apart a week or two, and he pulled a wooden box from a nearby shelf and placed it in his lap.

He’d pulled his own high-backed chair from behind his desk and placed it next to the boy’s so they were in touching distance. From experience, he knew that the transfer of the conscious mind was a lengthy process and needed his son to be still during the entirety. His current body had not been much older than Ansgar when he’d needed to begin the procedure and the pre-teen, Lloyd had panicked five minutes in, so he was forced to stop, calm the boy and start again. A fact that still irked him.

This time though, he would be operating the process in reverse and for a fraction of the time. He could foresee no problems so long as Ansgar continued to demonstrate such fortitude. “You will hold these face-up and I will place my hands over yours,” he explained.

“And then I can see mother?” the nine-year-old asked, his heard thumping in his chest as he waited to see if the question would anger his father or not. He recalled the terse silence that would fall over them whenever he dropped the ‘m’ word into conversation, so had learned to use it sparingly, but Mathild had regaled him with so many stories of the woman who’d given birth to him that he felt he had to make every effort to meet her.

Eager to reassure the boy and keep him co-operative, Heracles cracked a smile and nodded. “And then you will see your mother. Now, hands please,” he ordered and pushed back the lid of the box.

Inside were two polished, bean shaped stones of rhondite. As his only method of continuing his unnatural longevity, Heracles kept them locked away in his vault for years at a time, guards always posted  to ensure that no one but he would ever have access. The only person he’d ever allowed to fetch them for him was Cassandra, and that had been an extreme situation some three centuries ago when he’d unexpectedly sustained a mortal would and had been unable to move.

The two stones, one slightly darker than the other, were inscribed with symmetrical triangles and a few scratchings of numbers. Placed side by side, the symbol in the centre represented the ancient Greek philosopher and famous mathematician, Pythagoras, whose followers had believed heavily in his teachings of soul transmigration, or reincarnation.

Placing the stones carefully in Ansgar’s open palms, Heracles put the box on the desk, out of the way and looked greedily into his son’s curious gaze. “You remember that you must stay as still as possible?”

“Ja,” the boy replied, slipping back into his mother-tongue as nerves crawled over his skin. He willed his mind to be calm, using breathing techniques that Leena, the pretty lady who spent a lot of time with the caretaker, had taught him. _Ich werde meine Mutter sehen,_ he thought repeatedly with each breath in and out, letting the words remind him of his goal.

Heracles waited until Ansgar’s eyes opened again before he lowered his hands atop the boy’s. As soon as his skin touched the stones, he felt the transfer begin. He knew exactly what to expect from the stones whenever he needed to inhabit a new body. The subject had to be willing, to a degree, and he had to surrender himself to being ripped from his own physical form before taking control of the new one. It was a process that he’d mastered. This time, the process gave him reason to pause.

Rather than ‘pushing’ himself forward, Heracles felt the need to ‘pull’, but since he was unprepared for what that might entail, he found his mind being bombarded with images of a faceless woman and the uncomfortable sensation of longing for the woman to embrace and reassure him. It took several seconds before he realised that Ansgar’s desire to meet his mother was dominating the connection. If he wanted to gain more than sentimental nonsense from the boy, he would have to find a way to control the flow of information.

It took several minutes and a lot of intense concentration, but eventually, Heracles tapped into Ansgar’s memories of the last four years and found everything he needed. Once the source was open to him, it took very little time to extract all the information on the island and within another ten minutes, his eyes opened and he released the boy’s hands.

Ansgar wobbled, his eyes blinking in and out of focus as his father removed the stones and placed them safely back in the wooden box. He wanted to ask his question again – to confirm that he would be allowed to finally see his mother, but before the words could make their way to his mouth, the world went dark and he collapsed back into his chair.

Heracles pushed a button to summon the boy’s escort back to his office. In the few short minutes that followed, he slipped into his jacket, packed a small brief case and informed his PA that he would need a plane ticket to Alesund, Norway immediately. Without sparing another moment for his offspring, he met the escort at the door and gave his final instructions on the boy’s care.

“See that he’s taken to his mother. He is to remain with her until further notice,” he ordered sharply and left.

Despite the many setbacks he’d weathered over the course of his many lifetimes, he knew that this was it. The key to control of the Warehouse.

* * * * *

After working out how and understanding why Ansgar had left the safety of the island, the search was on to discover where he’d gone after reaching the mainland. Mathild was beside herself with worry for her charge’s safety and blamed herself for encouraging his flight with embellished tales of Rebekah, the boy’s mother. When she wasn’t hovering over the shoulders of those who were actively investigating, she was muttering away to herself in German and imagining every worst-case scenario for what Heracles might have in mind for his son.

Feeling a kinship for the distraught woman, and being one of the few people who could understand the foreign language, even while obfuscated by tears, HG had taken it upon herself to comfort the carer and attempted to impart some hope by sharing a little wisdom from her own experiences.

Myka, meanwhile, decided to stick to the promise she’d made to herself the previous evening. She was going to speak to her daughter about her more questionable choices of late. After asking around, she found the young woman sequestered at the desk in the room she now occasionally shared with Thomas. She didn’t want to know how much of the young man’s time there was spent ‘relieving stress’ with her little girl but the answer to that question and the quality of emotional intimacy that might follow such an encounter could tell her a lot about the state of the couple’s relationship. That approach was probably best left to Abigail though and she resolved first to address Christina’s insistence that she isolate herself when there was a problem to be dealt with.

Dark eyes met hers and tracked her around the room as she looked for the best place to sit. The options were a comfy single-seat sofa or the edge of the bed. If she was there to have a nice chat about the weather, she would choose the sofa. For a mother/daughter intervention, she chose the power-play of subtly reminding her daughter of those teenage days when grounding and confiscating were still weapons in her wheelhouse. Before she could even open her mouth to offer her concerns, a hang-dog expression came over the young woman’s face and she turned away from her mother.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Christina said, cutting off the regent. “But sometimes I think better when I work alone,” she insisted. “It doesn’t mean that I’m going to run off again.”

Myka counted to three and changed her tactic slightly. Rather than trying to be confrontational, she wondered if she could ease in with some light teasing, “You believe you think better, but maybe you just think **more**. _I think_ gothic novelists would call this ‘brooding’.”

A pen hit the table with a loud _clack_ and bounced angrily across the surface. “What would _you_ call it? Why don’t you tell me what you _really_ think?” the young champion demanded, turned abruptly in her chair and levelled her mother with an anguished stare.

The regent frowned at the unexpected change in her daughter. _Ok, so teasing was the wrong approach._ Where was this reaction coming from? “Wha…”

“You think I didn’t notice how you look at me now!?”

“Christina…” Myka tried to interrupt again but didn’t get very far. Whatever bee was buzzing around her daughter’s bonnet, it was a particularly irate one.

“Since you got your memories back, you look at me differently. Like you just realised that you hate me for leaving Catherine to die!”

The regent’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish before her brain clicked back into gear. “You are my child; I do not hate you!”

“Yes, you do! You hate me for being stupid and selfish. I took off and you and Mum had to go looking for me, so you weren’t at home when Kipling attacked Cat. You blame me for that – I can see it in your eyes, Ma. Don’t deny it!”

It was an insidious thought that had been growing inside her since her Mum had hinted that Myka might have her memories back. Christina continued to feel guilty for her sister’s fate that awful day, and no matter how much she reasoned that she’d had no control over the enemy’s movements nor had asked her parents to get involved, she couldn’t shake the need to take responsibility. Despite the hours spent with Abigail, she was far from resolving these issues.

From the moment green eyes had fallen on her and confirmed the fact that her mother remembered everything from their life together, she saw what she wanted to see in the regent’s gaze – disappointment, blame and a growing disapproval of the person she’d become.

Myka was stuck on the pain-filled words as they swam around her head. _Was there any truth to that? Did she blame Christina for the fact that she and Helena had not been at home when Kipling was murdering their youngest child?_ She wondered for a fraction of a second. A fraction that was long enough to confirm the young woman’s worst fear.

“See?” Christina bragged wetly. It was a rare occasion when she could feel displeasure for being right, but this was definitely one of them. Tears streamed down her cheeks before she could think to stop them, and she turned her gaze to the ceiling so that she didn’t have to see her mother’s disapproval through blurry windows.

Myka shook off the stray thoughts that had no business being in her head. Yes, she was disappointed in her daughter’s choices but no more so than she had been when Christina had taken briefly to e-cigarettes or when Helena had caught her and Adelaide getting drunk on a ‘borrowed’ bottle of wine when they were nineteen. She certainly didn’t blame the young woman for what had happened to Catherine and she needed to put a stop to those thoughts immediately.

She moved across the room and, standing beside the desk, gently pulled Christina’s head against her stomach, holding her tightly as she waited for the sobs to subside. When she felt the young woman start to calm, she pulled back a little and leant against the desk. “Now you listen to me; my guilt over not being there for Catherine is not your burden. We all make choices that we regret, but Kipling was determined to hurt Helena, to hurt all of us, and if he hadn’t managed it that day, he would have tried at some other time. There is no way that we can know what might have happened. I wouldn’t put it past him to have hurt her worse than he did if he’d been able to get her alone. What if he’d taken her from school as happened with Freddy?”

Christina sniffed and nodded but she still couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. “Everything was supposed to be better when you got your memories back,” she said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. “But… you don’t look at me the same as before.”

Myka felt the gathering of her own tears and realised that all the concern she’d felt for her daughter had showed on her face and that Christina had interpreted it to suit her own insecurities. It illustrated how mixed up the young champion’s feelings were and how valiantly she was trying to hide the difficulties she was having.

Placing a hand under Christina’s chin, Myka gently tilted her head up and put into her expression as much love as she could gather. “Sweetheart, if I’m looking at you any differently now, it’s because I’m worried for you. Anything else you discern in my eyes is not directed at you; I’m just trying to piece things together still and sometimes I remember things that made me angry, or hurt, or any number of things.” She released her hold, took Christina’s hand and pulled them both over to the bed. It was easier to have a conversation at eye-level. “Just this morning, I woke up feeling furious at your mother because I remembered the time that I asked her to pick up Tracy’s birthday present and she ‘accidentally’ wandered into a hardware store.”

Christina cracked a smile and filled in the missing ending, “She spent so long picking out different thicknesses of wire that the store was closed by the time she got there.”

“And since it was a holiday weekend, I had to wait two days for the store to open again. And the only reason I asked Helena to pick it up in the first place was because she’d forgotten to ship several orders and I was stuck at the bookshop trying to sort it all out,” the regent continued, hoping that the story would rekindle the kinship that had somehow grown distant between them.

“She goes to a planet of her own when she gets stuck into a project, doesn’t she?” the young woman asked fondly. She hesitated and then chanced a look at her mother. “So, you weren’t giving me the ‘disapproving mom’ stare last night; you just had other things on your mind?”

Myka’s expression hardened a little, but she managed to look somewhat amused as she stared her daughter down. “You were guzzling Claudia’s wine like it was going out of fashion, of course I was giving you the ‘disapproving mom’ stare. You’re an adult though, and that’s your prerogative.” A hand rose to touch short curls and she stroked them back behind an ear. “As for the rest… Sweetheart, if I’m disappointed it’s because parents sometimes forget how much their children still have to learn – even when they’ve grown into adults and thrown themselves into the big, wide world. Any amount upset I feel though is eclipsed many times over by the amount of pride I have for all that you’ve accomplished.

“I do not blame you for what happened to Catherine, and I certainly do not _hate_ you. Please don’t ever use that word in that context again,” she pleaded, her eyes tightening at the thought.

Christina felt another pang of guilt and nodded. “I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeves and released a loud sigh. “Ma, I’m really tired of all this. I just want things to be normal.”

“You’d get bored with normal. What you really want is a ‘choose your own adventure’,” the regent countered and watched a thoughtful expression lift her daughter’s features for a moment. “I understand what you mean though. Sweetheart, you do not need to carry so much on your shoulders. You’re dragging around worries and responsibilities that don’t belong to you, and I think because you’re so weighed down, you’re ignoring the people, the issues, that you _do_ need to address.”

“I made up with Cat,” the young champion defended herself immediately.

“I know, and I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see the two of you getting along so well. But what about Tommy?”

Christina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “We’re fine. We’re back together.”

“Are you back together because you’ve resolved the things that pulled you apart, or because you’re afraid of one of you dying?” Again, she watched the young woman’s face shift between emotions and waited a moment for them to settle. “I have learnt a few things from Abigail over the years. Your mother and I haven’t stayed together for so long because we never argue or fall out. It’s because we don’t have the luxury of ignoring the things that make living together uncomfortable. I’m grateful for that; we could easily have let the little things fester and become bigger things. Am I making any sense here?”

“I should stop ignoring the things that make it uncomfortable to be with him,” Christina answered grudgingly.

Myka’s eyebrow climbed a little higher at the tone. “If you really want your relationship to last, then yes, you have to face your problems.”

“You want me to do that _now_? With all of the sh… crap that’s going on?”

“If you’re really worried about having so little time left, then yes. Start now. Don’t sit here alone, wallowing in all the crap that’s out of your control. Believe me, you don’t want to enter this battle without a clear head. Are you going to walk into the Warehouse feeling confident that you’ve done all you can, or is your first thought going to be – why did I leave so many things unresolved?” She felt like she was beginning to get through to the girl and so kept pushing. “Are you going to be able to trust that Tommy can take care of himself in a fight, or will you be worried that he will never know how you truly feel?”

“Ok-ok, I get the picture,” Christina cried, knowing that her mother could go on all day if she wanted to.

“Do you want _me_ to have more reason to worry about _you_? Don’t underestimate the power of distraction.” Another sigh escaped her daughter and they sat in silence for several minutes.

Myka’s thoughts drifted off to what was happening elsewhere on the island. There was no way of knowing if Ansgar was part of some elaborate trap – a lure to force them to chase after him, directly into Heracles’ grasp – or even if there was a real need to launch a rescue, but in not knowing, there was really only one choice. As soon as they had the boy’s location, they would have to act.

Everyone was busy checking supplies or equipment. There were two vessels docked, with engineers combing the decks to ensure that they were sea worthy and a black-hawk idling as more eyes and hands moved over it. Myka knew that her eldest could be of much better use to the team outside of her room but something told her not to push too hard.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Christina said at long last.

“That’s the fate of a parent; we never stop worrying about our children. I’m much less worried about your ability to protect yourself and others in a conflict as I am with the way you’re choosing to deal with the issues affecting you personally.” Myka paused again to study her daughter and consider the things that had changed over the years. Why was it suddenly something that concerned her so much when Helena seemed to be less bothered by it? “I think… Perhaps regaining my memories has given me a unique perspective. You took Freddy’s capture hard. You were left in a situation that you felt you should have been better prepared for and… have you been torturing yourself with that ever since?” She watched her daughter turn away so that her face was mostly hidden. “Sweetie…”

For the twenty-eight-year-old, it was like finding the last piece of a puzzle. Was that really why she’d been pushing herself so hard? It seemed stupidly obvious when she heard it aloud. “… Do you think that’s it?”

“You’ve spent time with Abigail since, haven’t you?” Myka prodded. “I’m surprised she hasn’t suggested this already.” A sheepish expression came over the young woman and the regent decided to wait for the inevitable confession.

“I might have decided to stop seeing her for advice… after you moved back in. Until recently that is.”

“So, you didn’t like the idea of giving up control and you dug your heels in. Hmm, who does that remind me of I wonder?” the regent feigned ignorance and they both chuckled a little. “Nobody’s going to tell you what to do anymore. Your life is in your hands and that’s a scary thing. Just remember that you’re the one making the choice to be alone and we _are_ stronger together.”

“I don’t want to fail.”

“Everyone fails, but what do we think of with that word?”

“Failure is just a First Attempt In Learning,” she sing-songed with an accompanied eye-roll, recalling the mantra from her childhood. “But, Ma…” She paused as if what she needed to say was going to launch a nuclear missile. “This isn’t like falling off a bike or getting a B in a test.”

Myka smiled inwardly at the girl’s idea that getting a ‘B’ was failing, but quickly shook it off. “It’s also not your burden to carry alone,” she said slowly and deliberately.

Christina smacked herself in the forehead and slumped back on the bed. Why, oh why was it so difficult to remember that part?

“Would you like me to say it all again?” the regent teased, hoping that she could pull her eldest around by throwing in some humour.

“Y’know, Cat would say it’s because I have a superhero complex.”

“Letting go might be the hardest lesson you’ve had to learn,” Myka agreed and shifted her position so she could stroke her daughter’s hair. It was a gesture that soothed both of them and let her feel like she was still capable of helping her baby to solve tricky problems. “You’re driven and you care about people. Those are both admirable traits to have, but at some point, you seem to have developed this idea that to be successful means never needing to ask for help.”

Christina’s gaze shifted slowly from a random spot on the ceiling to meet her mother’s patient stare. How could she have seen hate in those eyes? Some underlying fear of Myka finding her inadequate had taunted her, and that fear had made fast friends with every other negative voice that lived close to her conscious thoughts these days. Had Heracles done this to her? Had his visits to her dreams planted some subliminal message to shake her confidence? It was possible, and yet… _You did this to yourself,_ she admitted and finally breathed with a smaller elephant on her chest.

Strangely, acknowledging her mistakes was not nearly as uncomfortable as carrying the guilt she always associated with not being in the right place at the right time to help. At least when she failed at things that she could control, it meant that she had the ability to make changes. More often than not, she would spend hours or even days worrying about circumstances that she had no influence over. _It’s just like any lesson,_ she thought. _And when the learning is difficult, it simply requires more practise. I have to remember to practise!_

Both mother and daughter were aware that their friends and family were dealing with an emergency, but somehow that knowledge didn’t seem quite as important as taking a moment to reflect and pull strength from each other. It wasn’t long before reality broke in again though and quick steps outside drew their combined attention.

Myka felt her wife’s presence before the door even opened to reveal their visitor and tuned into HG’s turbulent emotions before a frown fell over her features. Christina sensed the suddenly charged atmosphere and knew that the situation must have deteriorated in their absence. That knee-jerk feeling of being the one responsible for everything going wrong sat habitually in her stomach and she made herself take several deep breaths before it was almost unnoticeable.

The door swung open and HG came into view. Her dark gaze scanned the occupants of the room and concluded that neither woman was aware of the latest news. She hated to be the bearer and wished more than anything that she could leave the pair in peace to work through whatever had kept them hidden away for the past hour, but that was not an option and she launched in reluctantly.

“Darling, we’re ready to leave,” Helena told her wife as she hovered in the doorway. She knew from the fluctuating emotions she’d felt over the last hour that Myka and Christina had been having an intense conversation and hoped that they’d had enough time to clear the air. Her expression was contrite as she locked eyes with her fellow regent. “Claudia, in her words, ‘senses a disturbance in the force’ and Mr Kosan just called…”

Having both stood up, wife and daughter stared at the inventor in tense anticipation. Myka stepped forwards and placed a hand on HG’s arm. “Helena?” she prompted when she realised that the inventor was having difficulty getting the words out.

HG wished that she’d had the forethought to ask to speak to her wife alone; she hated the thought of Christina being involved with the darker side of their work. Realising that she had little choice in the matter though, she took a deep breath and relayed the news. “We’ve just received a report from a source in Norway – several bodies were found scattered around a boarding house this morning. The residents were the agents and director from Warehouse 14. They’re all dead.”

Gasps escaped the other two occupants of the room and both began to reel off demands for more information. Myka had the advantage of feeling her wife’s frustration at their diatribe and knew instantly that the deaths were just the tip of the proverbial ice-berg. Holding up a hand and throwing her daughter a look that willed her to be quiet for a moment, the brunette gathered her next words. “Helena, what is it?”

HG held her breath and uttered the words she wished she herself had not heard, “The Warehouse… it’s vanished.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I spent too long on the conversation between Myka and Christina, but at the point I wrote this, I felt like there were potential issues that needed airing. Hope it was still enjoyable to read. There will be more action soon!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos!

** Chapter Thirteen **

After a thousand years of waiting, Heracles stepped foot in the Warehouse and savoured the flux of power that flowed through his body. _Finally._

Having felt the walls weakening for many years now, he had patiently waited for the moment when he would be able to walk through the front door unchecked, but there was a part of him that had occasionally wondered if there would ever be an end to the delay. Several bodies littered the metaphorical welcome mat – the extinguished lives the final key to breaking through the impenetrable exterior. Sacrifice was always necessary when striving for the top. His father had taught him that.

Thinking of Alexander brought a darkness to his thoughts that he’d suppressed since childhood. If the famed conqueror wasn’t pulling the natives into bed with him, or drinking his weight in local fermented fruit, he was holed up in his tent with his generals, planning his next battle. There was no time in his life for children, legitimate or otherwise, unless it was to tell them how to follow in his footsteps. As a little boy who’d desperately wanted to be the centre of his father’s world, he’d made every effort to follow that advice. But when Alexander had created the Warehouse and refused to share it with the world, he’d fought back, standing up to the great hero. On the threshold of this mystical entity, they’d clashed; Alexander had become ethereal – a part of the building – while Heracles was propelled beyond the perimeter.

From that moment forth, he’d felt an untameable need to be at one with the Warehouse. He needed it as much as he needed air and now, he felt like he could finally breathe.

Gaining entry wasn’t the end victory he sought though. A part of Alexander’s soul lived within these walls and he knew that he would never have total control until he claimed it. His aunt’s descendants would aid him with that last step and he set immediately to work in finding them.

Like a bloodhound, he followed his nose past countless shelves of artefacts ancient and new. Thoughts that he’d put aside popped abruptly into his head – he could change the world with this power, he could bring peace to humanity… _whether it wanted it or not_. That voice in his head – the one that had guided his hand and cautioned patience for centuries – he felt it hunger. It too felt the tedium of holding back. The ultimate prize was within its grasp and it pulled him into a jog, and then a run. Face flushed by the time he reached his destination, Heracles willed entrance to the nerve centre and stepped through a stone archway as the wall in front of him crumbled.

“Now, Miss Donovan,” he muttered to himself. Passing by a large glass cabinet, his reflection shimmered, a shadow looming behind him, but which he ignored. “Where might you have hidden the key to igniting these engines? I believe it is past time for a family reunion.”

* * * * *

The news of the dead agents and vanished Warehouse pulled everyone back into the small auditorium. Catherine, who’d been quite content to lie in bed for as long as her parents would allow, was back on the front row, rubbing her eyes and trying to fight the bubbling anxiety in her stomach. Had she time to ask them, she’d have found that her siblings and parents were experiencing the exact same uncomfortable combination of motion sickness and nervous anticipation. But of those who felt off-kilter, none felt it more so than Claudia and Irene.

Mrs Fredrick’s naturally dark complexion now had a greenish tinge to it, and beside her, the current caretaker stood, hands clasped firmly to the back of a chair as if she would collapse if she let go. Both were feeling the effects of whatever Heracles was doing to the Warehouse and all of the people in the room felt very motivated to find a solution to this conundrum.

“He must be trying to move it,” Jason thought from his perch a few rows back. He and Steve had spent the last hour or so working with Delta Squad to plan a rescue mission for when they eventually found the missing child, but had had to abandon it when they got the latest news. They’d not spent long with Ansgar, but they’d both become attached in that short space of time. The priority now was discovering what had happened to the mystical building where they’d once worked, but their hearts were with the boy and Jason held onto his husband’s hand atop the arm-rest to offer his support.

“How are we gonna find it if he hides it?” Pete worried. “How does the Warehouse even move?”

HG thought of her grandparents and all the trouble they’d taken to find the perfect spot for Warehouse 13. She’d never thought to ask how they knew that Warehouse 12 was getting ready to ‘up-stakes’ or how they had chosen South Dakota as the perfect spot, and she would not have the chance now to rectify that fact. Warehouse 14’s home in Norway had been revealed to them through Claudia’s insight, so perhaps it was Caturanga who had seen the New World location? For Helena, this begged the question of whether the Warehouse still considered the redhead its primary link to the physical world or not?

“Usually, the corner stone is moved to the new location,” Myka explained, “and then the inventory begins to transfer to its new home. I’ve never heard of the entire building moving though.”

“The building never moves,” Helena added, confirming her wife’s assumption. “Warehouse 12 is still standing in London, Warehouse 13 remains in South Dakota, and we’ve even visited a Warehouse that retained many of its artefacts,” she reminded them, though hated to include that last example as it still held regretable memories for her.

As the question floated around the room of ‘how’ and ‘where to’ the Warehouse was being moved, the entire Wells-Bering family and both present and former caretakers were hit by a wave of energy. The stomach-churning, that had accompanied them for most of the morning, drowned under this sudden weight and they all froze. Several seconds passed before the klaxon sound of a proximity alarm filled the room, a rumble shook the ground and Mrs Fredrick cried out in panic.

The chaos of several things impacting at once almost obliterated the ex-caretaker’s outburst, but as those closest to her jumped to her aid, gradually the whole room realised what was happening. Delta Squad cleared a path for their medic and a call was made to the infirmary, but by the time Dex reached his patient and the rumbling hit its peak, Mrs Fredrick’s old heart had had enough and beat its last.

Gasps of shock escaped those closest, but there was no time to dwell as Claudia lost her grip on the back of her chair and hit the deck, convulsing violently in tune with the shaking ground. Myka helped those closest to move all obstacles out of the way as Dex dashed to the redhead and did his best to turn Claudia on her side.

HG had one arm wrapped tightly around Catherine and another holding the frame of the door. The tremors beneath their feet were not severe, but enough to put them ill at ease and the inventor moved to the portal as a precaution. Besides the disquiet and the quaking, Helena knew that the sight of the old caretaker, who someone had considerately pushed away from the frenzy and wrapped in a blanket, was unnerving for the teen. Irene’s eyes were closed as if in deep thought but there was a slackness to her face and a stillness to her shoulders that betrayed the truth. Her eyes swept over to Claudia and she pulled her daughter tighter against her; it was bad enough that they’d all witnessed Mrs Fredrick’s last breath, but to watch the redhead in such a state, who’d been like an aunt or older sister to all her children, that was unthinkable.

The infirmary doctor arrived, stepping quickly but carefully into the auditorium with two nurses carrying a stretcher behind him. The tremors died down slowly until all that remained were the hammering of hearts and the murmuring of voices wondering what the hell had happened. Myka and Dex made way for the professionals, both reluctantly leaving their friend, whose shaking had stopped along with the ground’s. The regent stood and after seeing that the caretaker was in good hands, she wandered hesitantly – and then more frantically – over to her family.

Myka pushed her fingers into Catherine’s hair and kissed her head while whispering reassurances about Claudia’s physical state. “She’s in good hands, Cat.” Her eyes however said a different thing as they met her wife’s. Knowing that the redhead’s sudden seizure had something to do with the Warehouse was not much to go on as far as diagnoses went. Until they understood what had caused the tremors, they couldn’t be sure that their friend was out of danger. Anything she might have wanted to say to Helena was cut short by someone calling them.

“Moms!” Freddy’s voice rang through the air, pulling the regents from their silent conversation.

Cat stuck close to her parents as Myka and Helena crossed the room to join their son. Both regents’ expressions feared the worst, but as Fredrick stepped aside and pointed, they found the caretaker’s eyes gazing back at them. The teen squeaked and threw herself down beside the stretcher. She longed to pull the redhead into a hug but saw pain etched in lines around her face and settled for holding her hand.

“Claudia?” Helena began and knelt close by. Her hand hovered in the same way that Catherine’s did – desperate to comfort and confirm the warmth of the caretaker’s skin, but wary of causing more discomfort. “Don’t concern yourself with speaking, dear. You must rest.”

“No,” Claudia protested and grabbed the inventor’s arm. “It’s here. The Warehouse… came here.”

On hearing this, Myka stepped closer and leant over her wife’s shoulder. “What!? Claude you can’t be serious. How can it be here?”

“He told it to… find us…” she struggled. “Mrs F and me…”

HG glanced at her wife and shook her head, begging her to ask nothing more and Myka stepped back with a nod. “Rest now, dear. We will take care of the Warehouse,” she said soothingly and stroked the redhead’s hair behind her ear until she relaxed back into the stretcher.

The nurses carried her out and the doctor assured them that he would keep a close eye on his patient. Christina, who had followed Thomas and two of the other squad members outside, returned with an expression of utmost seriousness. “Ma, Mum, I think there’s something that you need to see. Outside.”

Fredrick moved after his twin, but Myka and Helena hesitated, holding onto their youngest. Myka turned to the teen and put a hand on each of Cat’s shoulders. “Stay here, sweetheart. Dore and Dina will stay with you,” she added and glanced at the two squaddies for confirmation. She kissed the girl’s forehead and stepped away so that HG could do the same before they followed Christina out into the quad. Pete followed closely behind and it was hard not to look back. Though Catherine had voiced her desire to not join their hunt for Heracles, it felt wrong to leave her behind.

Dex, Dill, Steve, Jason and all of Alpha Squad were already positioned around the new structure in the quad, their weapons at the ready as they waited for backup to arrive. Protruding from the earth was a curved formation of rock – one side elongated into a shallow incline and eventually dropping off sharply over a gaping maw. As steps were visible at the lip, disappearing into an ever-darkening throat, they had no choice but to assume that this was an entrance. But an entrance to the Warehouse? They could only guess the answer.

“It looks like Ali Baba’s cave of a thousand wonders,” Myka muttered as they approached.

“Is the Warehouse in there?” Freddy asked shakily, his nerves getting the better of him as he stared into the black hole and hoped that he was wrong. His Mum’s hand landed on his shoulder but no words followed.

As if sensing their presence, a sucking sound erupted from the cave, followed by a gust of air pushing back. It picked up tiny specks of dust and debris at their feet and gained momentum, swirling around their legs and climbing higher. Pete stepped closer instinctively to help, thinking perhaps to pull them out of the way – his vibes were going haywire and he knew that he only had a few seconds to act. When he got too close though, he hit a wall that thrust him back and he flailed inelegantly to stay on his feet. Thomas followed suit, though with a bit more caution, and was repelled in the same way. He gazed at his girlfriend through the swirling barrier and recalled her words of only a few minutes ago. He hoped his eyes could tell her what his mouth hadn’t had time to say.

Myka recognised the look in Pete’s eyes and grabbed hold of her family. Less than a thirty seconds had passed but already the vortex had already enveloped their little family. “Try to break through it!” she yelled at them, but like the whirlwind that had picked up her and Christina and deposited them in 1890’s London, this phenomenon refused to release them. In the time that it took to blink, the idyllic scene surrounding them disappeared and they were plunged into darkness.

* * * * *

Cat blinked back frightened tears and pushed herself up off the ground as she took in her surroundings. “Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered in panic as she took in the formation of shelves and realised that she was alone and flanked on all sides by dozens of artefacts. “Shit, fuck, bollocks!” she hissed again, her hands finding her hair and pulling shakily through it. The part of her that usually hoped her parents were not in hearing distance of her excessive cursing, fervently wished the opposite. If only someone could hear her right then!

One second, she’d been standing with Dina, listening to the woman’s reassuring words, and the next, a tornado had engulphed her, and no amount of force from either side could stop the whirlwind from wrapping her up and whisking her away. Now she was in the God damned Warehouse – the last place she wanted to be after her run in with Kipling.

She dared not move. Of all the stories her mothers had of their time in this place, touching the inventory was always the first step to exciting chaos. Like a deer in headlights, she froze and pleaded with the universe that her mothers would somehow, miraculously know that she needed them.

* * * * *

Helena’s first clear glimpse of her new location caused her heart to drop into her stomach. “Bollocks,” she exclaimed the instant she realised that she was alone. Far from feeling afraid of what might attack _her_ , she worried for the safety of her loved ones. Though Myka had lived and breathed the life of an agent and the twins were both competent adults with years of training, the very fact that Heracles had sought to separate them was an ill omen.

She knew when she was being out manoeuvred and despised the feeling. Had she ever made a decision that wasn’t observed from afar and countered? She was used to feeling the frustration and disappointment that came with failure, it was part of life after all, but those occasions seemed inordinately numerous whenever she was forced to deal with the heir. How could so many years have passed and yet she still had not anticipated this move?

 _Divide and conquer,_ the inventor thought of her opponent’s strategy. Well, she wasn’t about to let a little thing like separation from her lifeline hold her back. They’d all been the victims of the same maelstrom, so she had to assume that Myka, Christina and Fredrick had seen the same fate. Somewhere in the Warehouse, her family were dispersed and her single driving thought was to find them.

Dark eyes scanned the nearest shelves for inspiration, needing to first find out where she was. A pair of chalk erasers sat at eye-level, the information screen describing the frustration of a dozen educators imbuing the black-board aids with the desire to chase children who hesitated on answering questions. Continuing along the shelf, she found the original cane used to ‘correct’ misbehaviour, which was overly sensitive to sniffling, a quill that refused to let anyone write left-handed and a lunchbox that regurgitated anything that it considered ‘unhealthy’.

Knowing that the ‘Aisle of Education’ was somewhere in the far north-east section of the Warehouse, HG made another assumptive leap that the man she wanted to pummel was likely some place far to the south. This logical supposition might have led her directly into the path of a dozen traps, but she hesitated before moving and tried to ‘find’ her wife.

With a lot of interference from her own thoughts and the flux of energies that always lived in the Warehouse, it took a few moments longer than usual to lock onto Myka’s ‘signal’, but it was there and it was a start.

* * * * *

In the far north-west, Myka felt her wife reaching out to her and breathed a short sigh of relief. There was still a great deal to worry about, but just knowing that Helena was within reach, it gave her a boost of confidence. _Bering and Wells,_ she reminded herself with a whisper, _solving puzzles and saving the day._

It had taken only a few seconds for her to figure out where she’d ended up. The lawnmower to her right and the pruning shears to her left sent a shiver up her spine and she glanced automatically to the shelf above to find a pair of secateurs that she swore were watching her. Her left pinkie throbbed at the memory of those blades biting through her skin and she wondered whether the artefact now had a taste for her blood. Her eidetic memory would have helped her to figure out her exact location anyway, but since she’d personally snagged items in this area, she had an instant catalogue of every artefact close by.

No sooner had Myka dismissed her paranoia regarding the garden items, than she worried where her children had ended up. Picturing the twins in her mind, she shared the thought across the bond and waited to see if Helena had any idea where Christina and Fredrick were. After sharing a vague sense of relief that Catherine was safe outside of the Warehouse, there came an echoing concern that the older two could not be seen by either parent.

Myka shared her location and before long, they had a plan and a route worked out. First, they would find each other and then, they would find Heracles. Much as they both wanted to search for their children before anything else, the Warehouse was vast and they knew that they could be searching for a year before accidentally bumping into the pair. Trying to cover more ground by remaining separate would still be akin to searching for a needle in a haystack.

“I love you,” she whispered into the ether and began to walk south a few feet before turning east at the end of the aisle. “Be careful,” she added and immediately reminded herself of how easy it would be for Heracles to lay traps between them.

* * * * *

Catherine’s forehead rested against her knees and she rocked back and forth against the edge of a shelf as she muttered prayers to her patellae. Already, over half an hour had passed and she hadn’t heard anything except creaking and the occasional crack of electricity when a ball of sparks flew by. No one was coming for her. It was likely that no one in the Warehouse knew that she was even there. As far as her mothers knew, they’d left her in the auditorium with an entourage of guards; they had no reason to think that she was anything but safe.

 _They’re not coming,_ she told herself and sobbed.

Returning from the dead should perhaps have proved that she could overcome anything, and in those first few days, she’d felt somewhat invincible, but with nightmares starring her killer and in realising that she owed her life to her great-grandparents and not her own acumen, she started to feel vulnerable. She’d hesitated at admitting this to her parents, but she’d been afraid enough to want to be left behind. Dying had scrubbed her of any delusion that her family’s struggles were easily solved; her life was no movie and a happy ending was not guaranteed.

Recalling the time spent with her sister since her resurrection, she appreciated again the hard work that Christina had put into protecting her. While she maintained the belief that she should have been given the option to contribute, the last few weeks had changed her perspective and she wished more than anything that she could go back to being the ‘baby’ of the family.

As her sobs died down and she lifted her head to look around, she slowly understood that the likelihood of that happening was slim to none. She could not go back to her former self any more than she could un-cook an egg or push toothpaste back into a tube. There was very little choice left but to fight or flee.

After wiping her eyes on the hem of her t-shirt, Cat picked herself up and stretched out her cramped limbs. _There is little use in being afraid of something that has not yet come to pass,_ she told herself, repeating verbatim the line her Mum had fed her any time she’d worried about leaping into a new experience. If she’d stopped to dissect the words, she probably could have found fault in the logic, but in that moment, it served its purpose, as it had done many times in the past. Possibly, it was just the memory of her mother’s voice that gave her the comfort she so sorely needed, but whatever the reason, the teen found the will to stand tall and rethink her circumstances.

She’d wanted to visit the Warehouse since first hearing the bedtime stories her mothers weaved about their adventures there. Every artefact was like a bundle of magic – some dark, some light and many existing in a grey, benign area. If she’d learned anything from those tall tales, it was that a resourceful mind could make use of anything and, when in a pickle, artefacts were like catalysts towards finding a solution.

Of course, cautionary tales also went alongside the fantastical ones. She had laughed herself to tears while imagining Claudia being pummelled by bits of metal, until the entire Warehouse had threatened to collapse into her. The dodgeball story had particular significance after her first mainstream school PE lesson, reminding her that even a toy had lethal potential. And she wouldn’t soon forget the time she’d accidentally heard the tale of her siblings’ conception.

There were protocols to handling artefacts and for good reason. Knowing Claudia, she guessed that she wouldn’t have to search too far to find a dispensary for goo, gloves or grenades. With this in mind, she trod cautiously to the end of the row of shelves and glanced around the corner.

“Fuck,” she whispered as the rows of shelves stretched in every direction for what seemed like miles. _Is it possible to catch Tourette’s from cussing too much? ‘Cause, I’m gonna at least need a swear-jar after all this._

* * * * *

Fear was not his primary emotion as Fredrick Wells-Bering became aware of his surroundings and realised that his family were nowhere to be seen. Surprise and confusion hit him for a few seconds before frustration and anger took over. He’d had enough of this game. His parents were heroes and his sisters had suffered more than enough for one lifetime. If Heracles thought it was a good idea to transport all of them into the Warehouse for the final battle, Freddy was going to make sure that the ancient being regretted it.

Several ideas of his own flitted through his mind as he looked around and wondered how he should begin. The unique bond that he shared with his twin was there in the recesses of his soul, but another instinct tugged at him and he felt momentarily conflicted.

 _Cat,_ he thought and allowed his feet to carry him left along the aisle. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself; he’d never felt more than the usual sibling love for his younger sister; but whether it was the energy in the air or their recent encounter with an artefact, he was suddenly very aware that she hadn’t escaped this fate by choosing to stay behind. Images of pulling her out of the water and trying to breathe air back into her lungs assaulted him and he knew what his next move should be.

Not even bothering to figure out where he was, Freddy trusted his instincts and turned right. If he’d been deposited in a random place, then the others probably had too. While he’d never set foot in the Warehouse personally, he knew enough to figure that searching for a moving target would be near impossible, and yet, he felt confident that he just had to keep following his nose to find the fifteen-year-old. The thought of her alone and scared pushed him into a fast walk and then a jog.

“I’m coming, Cat. I won’t let you down this time,” he muttered to himself and picked up the pace.

* * * * *

Looking down from his perch, Heracles smiled a dead smile as he felt his guests arrive and watched as Christina Wells-Bering’s dark gaze found him and instantly narrowed. Entirely unaware of the skeletal-like shadow that hovered permanently over his features now, the heir rose to his feet and descended half a dozen measured steps towards his target.

“How wonderful it is to see you again, my dear,” he greeted the young woman. “I have missed our little tête-à-têtes these last few weeks. Though, I do have to add that I am heartbroken by some of the choices you’ve made recently. Cancelling our nightly meetings without so much as a farewell? And *tsk*, poor Cassandra…”

Christina said nothing and hoped that by doing so, she would encourage him to talk too much. There was nothing quite as satisfying as when the ‘bad guy’ dug the hole that would eventually bury him. She did sink purposefully onto one hip and crossed her arms over her body to let him know that she was summarily unimpressed by his taunting.

The shadow pulsed darker for a fraction of a second before Heracles regained control and pushed it back. A strange thing was transpiring inside him. For hundreds of years, the ‘voice’ had been the logic, reason and patience that had allowed him to survive for so long with rarely a threat of persecution, but on entering the Warehouse at last, Heracles began to take on that role – as if the shadow had controlled its darker urges for so long that now it refused to temper those desires. The symbiotic relationship that he’d enjoyed for a thousand years was turning on him and he had no idea how to stop it.

Words began to fall from his mouth without his forethought. Even if he agreed with the sentiments, it was unnerving to have such limited control over them. “How did it feel to know that her life was snuffed out by your hand?”

Christina’s jaw and fists clenched. One deep breath followed another as she worked hard at letting the comment go. “Interesting choice of throne,” she eventually shot back, her eyes deliberately scanning over the rising steps that reminded her of her nightmare with the river of blood.

“You like it? Alexander valued the Egyptians and their accomplishments. He learned a great deal from their culture,” he boasted and glanced behind him at the pyramid on which he stood.

“Your father?” the young champion asked, her sixth-sense finding something odd in his behaviour; he was showy now when he’d always been reserved with his arrogance before. Any time she’d spoken to him during their slumbering conversations, he’d appeared interested and calculative, but she sensed impatience in him now, as if, in being physically in the Warehouse, he’d lost the part of him that enjoyed the chess-like battle of wits.

Heracles’s mouth opened and closed haltingly. “Yes… my father,” he answered after a moment. “He was a visionary, you understand? A man before his time. It only makes sense that his family’s descendants are also extraordinary.”

CJ wondered at the hesitancy and the proliferous commendations for Alexander. She wondered even more at the abrupt change in character. “You’re trying to flatter me?”

“My… my father’s sister, Cynane, she had a brilliant mind. You are directly distilled from her lineage. You and I are kin,” he told her, as if she should be impressed.

“I have a family,” Christina replied, dismissing his claims and getting straight to the point, “Some of them are not blood relatives, but they are more kin to me than you.”

“I will show you the benefit of blood,” he noted confidently, ignoring her expression of disbelief and turning to climb higher up the pyramid.

Christina didn’t question her need to follow and stepped up several times before she realised what she was doing and forced her feet to a halt. What was this? Was she enthralled somehow? because she couldn’t understand why she had moved from her spot.

“Cassandra was a slave,” the heir began conversationally as he stood several steps above his guest. “Were you aware of that fact?” Without waiting for an answer, he launched into an explanation of meeting the commander and listed several of her impressive accomplishments. “You really should feel quite proud of your victory over her. You might attribute that success to nurture – your mothers have trained you well – however, in my opinion, this adequately proves the depth of your pedigree.”

“So, I was born to kill?” she wondered aloud. Cassandra was still a sore subject for her. The fact that the commander’s death had been part accident didn’t do much to assuage her guilt, but she was slowly learning to live with it.

“Born to conquer,” he clarified proudly. “Born to strive for the pinnacle. What better way to concrete our legacy than to realise that potential in controlling the Warehouse?” His eyes came alive now – that dead detachment gone as he surrendered to his mania. That was what Christina saw anyhow. Inside, Heracles felt his control wane rapidly and for the first time in a long time, he panicked. What was happening to him? This wasn’t how his victory was supposed to unfold!

CJ had heard enough to know that she definitely didn’t want anything to do with this man or his Machiavellian plans, but something was off about him and she was curious to know how far he was willing to go to see his vision come to life. She needed to stall too. In the spirit of not taking the entire burden of this battle on her shoulders alone, she wanted to give the rest of her family time to join her. They were in the Warehouse somewhere, she knew it, but there was no knowing how long it would take them to navigate the labyrinth of shelves.

“Go on,” she prompted, wanting him to believe that she was genuinely interested. “I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Warehouse, finally!  
> Another death, I know, I'm sorry. This is not going to suddenly become like GoT though!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe my last chance to play with a few artefacts. Enjoy!

** Chapter Fourteen **

The further Helena walked and the closer she got to finding her wife, the more cautious she became about where she trod. It seemed a foregone conclusion that there would be obstacles to keep her and Myka apart, but so far, she had encountered none. It should have given her hope, but she was far too experienced in the ways of the world and the machinations of her enemies to believe that her passage would proceed unchallenged.

Because of this, the more time that passed, the more paranoid she became about the objects that surrounded her. Every artefact had a history and at some point in the past, each and every one of them had caused enough trouble out in the world to warrant the need for an agent to snag, bag and tag them. Why wasn’t Heracles throwing at her everything in his extensive arsenal?

Every now and then, she swore that she could hear the clop of sensible shoes echoing from their impact with the concrete floor, and she pictured Myka in their bedroom that morning, pulling on her usual attire. The gait was right and they were so close now. Surely, they were now only two or three aisles apart?

* * * * *

Back on the island, all hell had broken loose. The moment the Wells-Bering family disappeared into thin air, the ground around the new cave-entrance erupted and the dead began to rise.

Teslas worked this time and bodies fell to the ground, immobile, but there seemed to be no end to the holes that opened up with freshly animated remains. Pete’s sporadic commentary and zombie-movie quotes were swallowed up by the fanatical screams of the dead and the shouts of fellow agents and squaddies who were attempting to organise an offensive.

Through the din, Ant managed to communicate his intention to release a grenade and initiated a temporary retreat. Allies cleared a large area and took the opportunity to breathe as they watched the hoard close in. In the seconds it took for sparks to explode in front of them, they surveyed the ground, desperate to find the source of the onslaught.

Pete found Steve through the crowd and jogged towards him and Jason. “We need to find the artefact!” he panted. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m getting too old for this!”

Jason grimaced and aimed his weapon at the small group of dead that were making a beeline for their little group of ex-agents. The grenade had thinned the crowd but it was rapidly thickening again as more hands pushed through the dirt. “Any ideas what we might be looking for?”

“Dude,” Pete yelled above the rising sound of fighting. “Myka usually figures this stuff out!”

“We’d better split up,” Steve proposed, even as it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. “Take someone with you and scan the perimeter,” he added hurriedly and immediately took off, oblivious to whether or not Pete had taken his advice.

There was no time to stand about trying to hash out a plan. In the short time they’d been talking, the enemy’s number had risen again and were slowly overwhelming their defence. Nobody wanted to admit defeat, but as Alpha and Delta Squad tried in vain to push back, many were beginning to think that retreat might be their only choice. Ant watched the ex-agents run off in both directions around the cave, each leaving a wide berth from the undead which followed them, and felling those that got in their way. He renewed his own efforts to repel the onslaught and hoped that the trio would find an answer somewhere. If the source of this phenomenon was in the Warehouse itself, then they were doomed.

* * * * *

Freddy had no idea where he was going as he jogged passed one aisle after another and glanced down each one to see if he could find his little sister. He couldn’t explain why he felt so certain that he would find her if he just kept going, but he trusted his gut and vowed that he wouldn’t give up.

He spotted a dangling albatross up ahead and slowed to a casual walk as he first looked up and then around at the nearby shelves. His family had always teasingly referred to him as a water-baby; there was just something about being submerged that made him feel at home. Even watching his sister drown had not deterred him from needing to spend hours in the pool or lake, and something about the artefacts that now surrounded him caught his curiosity.

All sorts of nautical and aquatic paraphernalia gazed down on him as he moved along the shelves and read their screens. The key to Davy Jones’ locker, the Pearl of Wisdom, the piece of driftwood from the Titanic and many more. But it wasn’t until he’d traversed almost the entire length that he found himself in trouble.

The rope from the Mary Celeste seemed to sense his approach and slipped down from the shelf above to brush against his head. Startled, he turned and backed away, heedless of his steps. Just as he began to think that he was panicking for no reason, Freddy impacted with the opposite shelves and several items shook around him.

It happened in a sort of horrible slow-motion that was impossible to interrupt. His left shoulder knocked the lever of a faucet attached to a barrel and water immediately began to pour out. Reacting again, he jumped away, his heart hammering as the liquid appeared to chase after him. Nothing about the feel of the puddle swimming around his ankles filled him with joy or comfort. A bubble of water began to accumulate around his legs and by the time it reached his knees, he found that he couldn’t move.

He tried to stretch towards something that would give him leverage to pull but, stuck between shelves, he was unable to reach either one. The faucet continued to pour water onto the ground beneath it and gradually, the bubble moved higher, sloshing about around his waist now.

It was then that he realised he’d been shouting and he stopped to conserve air. His eyes closed and he tried to calm his breathing, knowing that his racing heart would only serve to deplete his oxygen supply faster.

Just as the bubble reached his chest, he heard a sound that distracted his efforts – rapid footfalls.

* * * * *

Myka knew when she was within a hundred yards of her wife because her scalp began to tingle and she felt like the world around her was suddenly filled with light. “Helena?” she called softly, hoping to attract the inventor’s attention without disturbing anything else that might be ‘listening’.

There was no immediate answer, but after a few seconds, a quiet _“Myka?”_ followed.

Following the sound and her instincts, Myka made her way past an ornate mirror and several landscapes and made a right at the end of the aisle. Her heart leapt when she finally caught sight of her wife and she grinned as her feet moved rapidly towards her target. Helena followed suit and the two approached with eyes only for each other.

Had they taken a second to recall the cautious approach that both had chosen thus far, they might have noticed the gentle shimmering of the air that surrounded them before they could embrace.

Myka nearly sobbed as she reached out to pull her wife into her arms and found just air. Her hands moved through nothing but smoke and the space around her became cloudy, her vision shortening to no more than an inch from her nose. As it cleared, an entirely different scene greeted her eyes.

* * * * *

Cat had taken to zigzagging through the Warehouse in pursuit of her family. If she looked down an aisle and saw lots of creepy looking things, she walked straight past; if the artefacts looked mostly unoffensive, she took a chance and walked carefully through.

More than once, she spotted a more interesting item on a shelf and curiosity almost got the best of her. The tips of her fingers tingled with the desire to touch and explore and when she wandered through an aisle that held shelf after shelf of engine parts, old bicycles and even the nose of the first Concorde aircraft that broke the sound barrier, she very nearly squealed. Despite the many distractions, she kept going and felt that she was making good progress.

She had no experience of how vast the Warehouse really was or any concept of where she might be in proximity to the rest of her family, but an invisible hand seemed to be guiding her along; every time she refused to walk down one of the long corridors of shelves because it looked too scary, she felt the urge to deviate slightly from her route to bring her closer to where she should have exited.

Her mothers would have urged her to question it. A phantom guide and numerous artefacts in her near vicinity? That should have set alarm bells ringing, but the only thing that she felt for sure beneath the unexplainable trust, was a sense of urgency. She needed to hurry and broke into a sudden jog.

Foregoing the detours now and just sucking up the goose bumps as the eyes of toys and taxidermized animals followed her progress, Cat took the shortest route to her unknown destination and soon heard cries in the distance. They weren’t quite cries for help, but there was a definite sense of panic in the voice and, suspecting that only her family had been transported into the Warehouse, she knew that someone she loved was in trouble.

An albatross caught her eye up ahead and she picked up her speed for the last few feet before screeching to a pause at the end of the nautical and aquatic aisle. Fear gripped her but didn’t stop her in her tracks as she leapt towards her brother and tried to assess the situation.

“Cat? I’m glad to see you,” the young man greeted his sister. The palpable relief in his voice was short lived as the bubble swam around his collar and climbed steadily higher up his neck. “Any chance you can get me out of this!?”

Catherine watched as water slipped into her brother’s mouth and she had a momentary flashback of being held under by Kipling, unable to draw breath. Freddy’s spluttered, _“Quick, Cat!”_ broke her out of it and she jumped into action. “Take a deep breath,” she advised before turning to scan the shelves.

She probably should have gone straight to the source and tried to neutralise whatever was causing the water to behave that way in the first place, but there was no guarantee that she would be able to figure it out in time and something else stuck out sharply in her mind: the Easter Island Conch.

As a way of helping her to overcome the trauma of being drowned, during Christina’s explanation of all her extensive work, she’d passed along the files of several artefacts that could counteract the deadly effects of prolonged submersion in liquid. A fish that gave a person gills when rubbed vigorously against the skin, but left permanent scales behind; a snorkel that recycled its own oxygen continuously, but could only be removed during high-tide at a very specific set of costal coordinates; several more assortments of strange and wonderful items, and the piece de resistance – the Easter Island Conch. An artefact with only a mild side effect of imbuing the user with a preference for sushi.

Christina had provided the list in the hopes that said artefacts would give her little sister something to visualise when she woke in the night, gasping for air. They worked too – most of the time. But more importantly, Cat now had a way to give her brother time while she tried to solve the puzzle to disarming his watery cage.

Grabbing the right item off its shelf, Cat held it up for Freddy to see, whipped it over her head and launched it at the bubble. As hoped, the shell broke through the surface tension and fell directly into the seventeen-year-old’s hands. She mimed putting it to her mouth and he copied, only hesitating a fraction of a second before taking his first breath and giving his sister a thumbs-up. Bubbles of air now rose through the water and both siblings felt a wave of relief hit them.

* * * * *

As Helena became aware of her new surroundings, a kind of panic that she had not felt for many years began to consume her. It was the anxious claustrophobia of being in a social situation that stifled every aspect of one’s personality and free will. Her ribs were being squeezed tighter than she was used to, her clothes were heavy and many layered and the table at which she sat was surrounded by people in similar dress who all appeared to be conversing politely about the state of the empire.

 _What the…?_ her brain supplied unhelpfully as she tried discretely to slow her breathing and dispel the black spots from her vision.

Beside the inventor, a rotund gentleman in full dinner wear, who appeared to be sweating quite a lot beneath his tight collar, had the room’s attention as he regaled his guests with his opinion, “Well, they can hardly blame us for the state of their social system. We’ve given them jobs and brought civility to a country that was backwards and rudimentary. Isn’t that right, darling?” he declared pompously, turning to HG with an expression of superiority.

Helena knew that he did not really require her opinion and felt the urge to rip into him with contradictions, but what actually came out of her mouth was a cloying, “Yes, dear.”

A sick feeling grew in her stomach as she glanced around at the couples sat at the table. She recognised the woman diagonally opposite as the daughter of one of her mother’s friends and around the dining room, calculated three other couples. That left her and the pompous oaf at the head of the table. The one who’d called her ‘darling’. _Good God, no. This cannot be happening._

It was her worst nightmare – that she succumbed to her mother’s manipulations and settled for being the picture-perfect debutante, caught the eye of a wealthy business man and became the obedient wife.

Where was Myka? Where was the Warehouse and her children? Where was the nearest escape point!? She tried desperately to look around for something that might help her out of this place, but she was trapped inside an avatar without any control over its movements. While the men talked of their self-importance and the women simpered, HG raged and began to panic. The meal seemed to last forever and by the time the servants arrived to clear the table, the inventor was ready to stab someone with her dessert fork – if only she had the power to reach for it!

The torture continued from the dining room into the lounge, where the men declared their intention to play cards and suggested that their wives might like to retire to the other side of the room and discuss the latest fashions. Helena recoiled at the idea of being told what she might like to do and had to take a long, deep ‘breath’.

A knocking at the door drew the attention of the occupants and her head turned to the sound. The door opened and three apprehensive young people hovered by the opening, beside a hard-nosed looking woman in a pinafore. “Mr Boulton, the children wish to pay their respects before they retire for the evening. Is this a convenient time?”

Inside her prison, Helena did a double-take and gaped at the adolescents who entered.

* * * * *

The shelf of books confused Myka as it appeared before her eyes. She watched as a hand repeatedly moved to a box close by, pulled out another tome, brought it close to study it and searched the shelf for a suitable home. _What the hell is this?_ she cursed in her head.

It took a few minutes, but she eventually recognised her surroundings as those of the bookshop when her father had been running the place.

It was no secret that Myka had a lifelong love of books. They’d given her an escape from reality when the world around her just wasn’t prepared to accept her uniqueness; they’d helped her to find common ground with her emotionally distant father; they’d been her friends and confidants; and above all, they’d offered her the first introduction to the wonderful world of HG Wells.

As she continued to watch the monotonous rise and fall of hands stacking books and occasionally pausing to bring one forward, or push one back so they were all in line, she realised that there was a limit to how much of her life she could dedicate to things that were inanimate – no matter how much she appreciated their presence.

In real life, on the odd day that she worked in the bookshop, she tended to deal more with the customers or the accounting, and when she did spend time stacking shelves, it was out of choice because she needed a mindless job to give her imagination a chance to wander. Never did she spend so much time alone and it was only in these moments, as she watched from inside this prison, that she appreciated how full of love and vibrance her life was.

There was something sad about the way this body moved and Myka began to feel increasingly frustrated, wanting to knock all of the books off the shelf and run far away. It was too quiet. Where were the careful footsteps of browsing customers and soft turning of pages? Where was the dinging of the bell at the door and the pleasant chatter between cashier and purchaser? Why was she filling shelves with books when nobody appeared to be around to buy them?

The hand picked up another book, looked at the title and searched for a place to put it. Again and again. Over and over. Like a machine; pick, look, put.

_Arrrgh!_

After managing to catch a glance at the clock every now and then, Myka calculated that this tedium continued for almost three hours. It was only momentarily broken by a customer, who wandered in off the street to ask for directions and seemed so embarrassed by the lack of clientele that he picked up the nearest paperback and claimed, in the broadest local accent, that he needed a quick read for the journey home.

All the while, the regent tried to figure out what sort of artefact could have caused this combination of paralysis and nightmare. There were one or two likely culprits in the Warehouse, she recalled, but she was sure they were locked up in the dark vault. Unless Heracles had moved them? But how would he have known where to lay this trap? Could he have calculated so accurately where she and Helena would meet? Or perhaps the artefact hadn’t been placed at all… Perhaps it was set to activate under certain parameters and she and Helena finding each other had been the trigger?

Whatever the cause of her current situation, Myka knew that she had to focus her mind and stop her brain from panicking any more. Three dream hours did not necessarily equate to three waking hours and the more she stressed about what could be happening while she was trapped, the less likely her escape would be. She needed to tap into her bond with Helena and restore that connection. She needed her anchor.

Knowing what she needed and finding it were two very different things though. The nightmare had finally begun to change, and Myka found herself faced with a new emotional challenge…

* * * * *

Feeling very accomplished after giving her brother a way to breathe under water, Catherine turned her attention to the overflowing keg. Being careful not to touch anything, she approached the screen and began to read.

“The Eau de Vie Faucet. Activated by touch…” she broke off and frowned at her brother. “Really, Freddy? Didn’t you learn anything from the ‘rents? Lookie, no touchie, bro!” She smirked at the irate expression on Fredrick’s face but chose not to push it, filing this moment away for later. “Alright,” she started again. “Any escaped liquid encapsulates a victim until either the victim drowns or the artefact is deactivated by…” She mumbled the last few words and breathed her relief. “I’ve got it!” Gesturing frantically, she took off and disappeared around a corner at the end of the aisle.

Freddy spluttered, releasing a torrent of bubbles before he remembered that he couldn’t talk under water. His dark eyes darted around and he strained his hearing for the sound of returning footsteps, but he couldn’t discern much from within his watery cage. Cat didn’t make him wait long though and reappeared within the space of a minute.

A purple cloth in hand and a grin on her face, the fifteen-year-old returned and skidded to a halt in front of her big-brother. After wrapping it around her hand to turn off the faucet, she twirled the cloth into a long, rope-like shape and snapped it at the bubble. Her grin became ultra-smug as the integrity of the phenomenon collapsed and fell to the floor, leaving her brother free from its deadly embrace. She opened her mouth to brag or tease but felt all of the air escape her lungs as two muscular arms crushed her chest.

Freddy released his sister the second he appreciated that the strange sound in his ear was her choking. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” he apologised frantically and began checking her over.

Catherine laughed breathlessly and slapped his hands away. As he relented, she began her own inspection and pulled a face at the state of his clothes. “How are you dry!?” she gawped and tugged at the fabric as he walked away.

“I don’t know,” Fredrick responded, his mind whirring now that he was mobile again. “Warehouse mojo,” he dismissed.

They walked aimlessly but cautiously for a few minutes before the older sibling slowed to a stop and turned to face the younger teen. “Cat, I really am sorry that you had to be here, but I’m glad you were there to save me when… especially when… I wasn’t… I didn’t…” He thought back to the day he’d failed her and couldn’t get the words out.

“Don’t be a muppet!” Cat scolded him and punched him square in the stomach, winding him only because he really wasn’t expecting it. “You did everything you could. And this is… I freaked out when I got here, but… well, now that I’m here… I could totally _be_ an agent!”

Freddy rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to mess up his sister’s hair. “Yeah, you could! How about we play ‘Warehouse Agent’ and save the world?”

“I’m in!” Cat replied and grinned again. She knew that he was just messing around; this was far from a game, but she appreciated his efforts to lighten the mood.

She wouldn’t have thought it a day ago, but she was finding this whole adventure increasingly thrilling. From her first conscious awareness of being in the Warehouse and feeling terrified, to an evolving understanding of her own skills and abilities, Catherine began to believe that her involvement, her forced presence in the Warehouse, was not a mere accident.

She was there by design. By the Warehouse’s design. It thought she was useful and that gave her the confidence to stay the course.

Freddy thought out loud as they moved off again, “I want to say that I think we should find Mum and Ma first, but they could be anywhere.”

“So, where exactly are you taking us?” the younger teen’s confused voice asked.

He slowed a little and glanced around as if listening for something. “They’re going to want to find us, but I think they know it’ll be like the needle in the haystack,” he explained.

“They’ll find each other first because they have that whole ‘soul-mate bond’ thingie,” Cat concluded. “So, you’re trying to use your psychic twin-thing to find Chrissy?”

“It’s not a ‘psychic’ thing, not like our moms’,” he protested. “It’s just a feeling. An instinct I suppose.”

“It’s your Peter-Tingle,” she added, nodding to herself.

A frown pulled Fredrick’s eyebrows together. “My what?”

“Peter-Tingle?” Cat repeated and pulled a face that said ‘ _How do you not know what that means?_ ’ Eventually, she huffed and elaborated, “Your Spidey-Sense.”

“Oh!” he answered in a light-bulb moment.

“Y’know, it really is a good job that I’m here, ‘cause we’d be seriously lacking in the ‘pop-culture-reference’ department if we left this up to the rest of you,” the young teen clarified as they followed Fredrick’s sixth-sense to some unknown destination. “This mission would be a flop without my light comic relief,” she bragged, effecting a slight swagger that reminded Freddy of their Mum.

* * * * *

Despite the pep-talk she’d given herself, Myka was starting to panic again. The dull repetition of shelving books was nothing compared to what she was witnessing now.

Apparently concerned for her solitary life and the future of the store, her parents had arranged several dates for her with a prospective husband. _Who the hell does that these days!?_ The phantom body, in which she was imprisoned, tried feebly to protest but caved the second her father’s face hardened.

Her real parents would never have done this to her, would they? The question ate at her as she remembered their aversion to her relationship with Helena and her mother’s hurtful opinions. Much as she hated to admit it, this scenario wasn’t entirely unlikely. What was unlikely was the ease with which she gave into their demands. She’d grown out of her mousey ways and had learned to stand up for herself. This ‘doormat’ was a version of Myka Ophelia Bering that had never truly existed – she’d stamped it out of herself before it had ever become as bad as this, and Helena had helped to slay these insecurities once and for all. Or so she’d thought.

Her ‘date’ picked her up at precisely six o’clock and at phantom Jeannie and Warren’s insistence, stepped inside to answer their staged questions about his job and his plans for the future. Even in a dream, her parents were transparent and predictable. They wanted her to know that this man would be able to provide for her. They cared, but only so far as their narrow understanding of life and happiness would allow.

It wasn’t until this moment that Myka appreciated how much they’d changed in the real world. As she vowed to visit more often, she watched her surroundings carefully, looking for any hint of escape.

Time moved in long, painful jumps. A restaurant, her ‘perfect man’ dressed in the same drab suit, bland variations on a theme of pasta and endless drivel about _his_ plans for _their_ future. It continued in an expectable cycle, only her dress and his ‘playful’ tie offering the regent any clue that this date spanned the course of several evenings. With each wardrobe change, Myka saw confidence grow in his eyes and felt her character sag at the inevitability of a lifetime nodding at his monologues and enabling him, while surrendering to her destiny of never having her own dreams realised.

 _Where the hell is this going?_ Myka couldn’t help asking herself repeatedly. _Am I really going to have to watch this through ‘til the end? Let me out, damn it!_ she screamed into her own head.

 _Is this what it’s like to be bronzed?_ she wondered at length. The passing thought came on the back of a wish that she could find a way to make contact with her wife, and the second it hit her, it stuck. _Oh, Helena,_ she thought, feeling a need to pull the inventor into a long hug. This nightmare was nothing short of torture. Trying to imagine a century or more of her worst-fears-brought-to-life was impossible and yet it dawned on her that she might be facing that very thing.

The idea that her spouse, the love of her life, was trapped again in her own kind of hell – this thought was the one that finally powered a change in her surroundings. It was just a flicker from the periphery of her host’s vision, but Myka caught enough of a look to glimpse what appeared to be a period dining room. Victorian, possibly? It seemed likely if it was connected to Helena. Perhaps she’d just seen a flicker of her wife’s artefact prison.

Whatever it was, Myka felt renewed by the proof that what she was witnessing was simply a smokescreen and that there was a way to break through it. She just had to focus her mind hard enough on… On what? Her wife? Her family? Time had to be running out and she needed to figure out exactly what she’d done to cause the blip in the first place.

Concentration didn’t come easily however, when the scene through her doppelgänger’s eyes had been tailored specifically to distress and disturb her. Her date’s tie had changed again, signifying a new day, but it was somewhat fancier than any of the others and as Myka looked closer, she noticed that his whole outfit appeared to have been carefully selected. Why? The regent had a nagging fear that she knew the horrifying answer to that question.

Sure enough, after another laborious spaghetti show, she watched him reach for an inside pocket of his jacket, where a suspicious bulge had sat the entire meal. Again, apprehension rose sharply in Myka’s mind. She knew it was irrational – none of this was real – but as if the nightmare had full control of her senses, she saw the ring box and felt every eye in the restaurant as people turned to look at her.

Forgetting the fact that she didn’t love the person opposite – that in fact, she was already happily married – the event that began to unfold before her very eyes was one that she’d always secretly feared.

When Tracy, on anticipating Kevin’s proposal, had posited several scenarios that involved very public places, Myka had smiled and nodded sweetly, inwardly hoping that such a thing never happened to her. At the time, Sam was still going through his divorce and had made it clear to his relieved partner that he didn’t want to get married again for a long time. Later, when she and Helena were just getting to know each other and debating the pros and cons of matrimony, the American had not so subtly expressed her aversion to what she called ‘a passive-aggressive approach to commitment’.

Maybe a more confident, callous person would have no issue in turning down a proposal in public, or even accepting and running the risk of being applauded, but Myka was not that person and knew that such an event would never be remembered with anything but anxiety.

Her daughter, of course, being the exception to the no-spectator rule.

So, she felt the many eyes and began to shake, saw the black, velvet box and wanted to throw-up. Her date’s mouth moved and he reached for her hand before even waiting for an answer. He saw her acceptance as a foregone conclusion and her heart exploded into a new pounding rhythm.

 _What the fuck is wrong with him!?_ she raged. Couldn’t he see the ‘deer in the headlights’ expression that surely sat on her face? He couldn’t actually believe that her frozen gape was a sign of love, could he?

The box opened and Myka flinched inwardly. She knew… KNEW that this wasn’t really happening, but terror bound her anyway. Her hand shook where he held it and with his free hand, he plucked the ring from the box. Nothing but white noise filled her ears as the diamond came closer and closer. Later, she would wonder what it cost. That it was actually quite pretty, made it worse – as if the extra expense gave her more reason to feel trapped.

Cool metal touched the end of her finger and she screamed, “Nooooo!”

Before she could comprehend the significance of her date’s frozen shock, or the fact that the word had actually found its way passed the lips of the ‘Myka-puppet’, a blur entered her peripheral vision and a hand landed on her date’s arm with a vice-like grip.

 


	16. Chapter 16

** Chapter Fifteen **

Helena’s double-take lasted long enough for the trio of youngsters to enter the room and be ushered in front of the sweaty-faced man. At the front, her son – his face still slightly round while his nose, ears and hands seemed disproportionally large; he had to be just beginning puberty. Immediately behind him, Christina stood, similar in height and development. And behind the twins, Catherine, who HG estimated at about ten-years-old. The regent watched as her children approached their ‘father’ and waited patiently for the nightly ritual.

It was an expectation that she’d hated from her own childhood. Her father, having grown up with Norrie and Rupert’s influence, was not such a stickler for the stiff adieu at the end of an evening, but he deferred to his wife’s preference on the matter and that was that. She and Charles were presented to George and Genevieve every evening and permitted a few words of reverence before retiring to their rooms, not to be heard from again until the following day.

The worst part for the young HG Wells was seeing the future that was expected of her. She wanted her father to ask her about _her_ ambitions as well as Charles. She hated their incessant enquiries into her needle-point and lessons in deportment. She longed to tell them about the amazing things she hoped to build and the adventures she would take. Instead, the bed-time ritual became the nightly horror of picturing the dull life that was expected of her and envying her brother’s freedom to choose his own destiny.

Being inside that nightmare, HG felt her very soul being torn from her body. The artefact was trying to rip apart everything she was proud of – everything she’d become. It pained her to think that the same thing was happening to the woman she loved.

All of those years spent trapped in bronze had done something that might help her though; after the first couple of decades, she’d reached the peak of her madness and entered a sort of heightened clarity. It was at that point that she began looking to the future and plotting the many ways in which she could use her stolen resources to bring the entire human population to its knees. In order to think so clearly though, she’d had to learn how to focus her mind away from the panicked thought of years gone by. The effort had carried her through most of the long hundred years, but in the end, her ability to push away emotion to focus on logic and ambition was sharp. So sharp, that she could awaken in a new century, fall in love at ‘first’ sight and still not be distracted from her plan.

Though it had been many years since she’d needed to use this hidden mental prowess, it did not take much for the inventor to summon that willpower again. Using her rage to power it, Helena forced her will through the barriers of the nightmare and brought her avatar to its feet.

Mr Boulton addressed the son first, as was the patriarchal habit, but was apparently too distracted by his desire to get back to his cards to spend much time questioning the teen and dismissed him readily. Christina’s likeness stepped forward and offered a ‘goodnight, father’ before kissing him on the cheek and leaving, no other words exchanged. The youngest, having patiently waited her turn, bounced slightly on the balls of her feet before approaching the imposing gent. She had her hands hidden in the front folds of her dress and smiled proudly as she pulled something out to show.

Helena watched the exchange with growing apprehension, knowing instinctively that the optimistic young girl had defied her elders to bring something of her own creation to the man’s attention. Catherine sought the same elusive praise and acceptance that HG had once waited for in vain.

She was halfway across the room now. One or two raised eyebrows followed her advance, but as this was her house and her children, no one could question her movements too much. The effort was hindered by the emotion that crept into her thoughts and she fought to push them away. It was no easy feat when she felt so desperate to save her children from harm and a part of her had to remember to be cold-hearted in order to keep going.

The child revealed her prize just as Helena reached the card-table and held it up for Mr Boulton to see, her angelic face holding an expression of excited anticipation. HG knew that this was supposed to be the worst part of the nightmare for her. Stuck in this body, forced to watch her children suffer while she sat, powerless to do anything to stop it.

She wasn’t going to continue to play that game though. As the father-figure caught sight of the girl’s fingernails and saw the embedded grime in each one, he began to swell with the reprimand that leapt onto his tongue. Helena was too quick for him though. Before he could release all of that hot air, the girl’s mother slid between them and levelled a hard stare at him.

Startled, the man choked back his words and gaped at the woman’s audacity. “Bah! What is the meaning of this!?”

HG didn’t waste her energy trying to answer. She simply looked him over, like he was a puzzle to be solved, and considered her next move. Ignoring the spluttering from him and the chocked gasps from elsewhere in the room, she searched carefully for the seams in the fabric of this nightmare. Lucid dreamers talked of leaving clues for themselves so that they knew when they were not walking in reality. There had to be something here too, something that she could use to find a weakness.

As the gent’s face became redder, she realised that he was a lost cause. Frustration began to creep under the walls of her mental barrier and she had to redouble her efforts. A soft sigh escaped her lips before she felt a gentle tugging at the back of her dress. Turning, she found her daughter’s hazel eyes looking back up at her and she knelt down to listen to what she had to say.

“I made this, Mother,” Catherine said and held up the object that she’d tried to give to the man she called _father._

Helena held out her hand to accept the object and thanked the youngster. Knowing that her focus would be harder to find with Cat in the room, she pulled the child into a hug, told her that she loved her and wished her sweet dreams before showing her to the door.

Still ignoring the blustering of the adults in the room, HG opened her hand to inspect the item she’d acquired. “Half a locket?” she muttered to herself as a small, heart-shaped piece of gold shone up at her.

Well, it would have been heart-shaped, had it been whole. The inventor felt a twist in her gut when she turned it over and found her wife’s name etched on the reverse in flowing script. _This wasn’t made by a child,_ she realised and immediately knew that this was part, if not the entire artefact. If she hadn’t had the presence of mind to force her consciousness into this body and control it, she would have been obligated to watch the object of her salvation move from phantom-Catherine’s hand to the man who stood before her now, his face enraged at her unaccountable behaviour. Who knew what would have become of it after that?

 _That is part of its design then,_ HG concluded. Certainly, the inability to reach for a life-raft while drowning would induce panic in anyone. Since that was the overwhelming essence of this horrible dreamscape, Helena wondered if being emotionless and logical was all she needed to find an escape. It had never been in her nature to be mild and meek in the face of injustices against her, but maybe that was the point. The nightmare had stripped her of her nature and her instinct had been to lash out, which didn’t get her very far.

_So only by fighting my instincts can I wake._

With this in mind, the inventor looked up at the character depicting her husband. _Fight my instincts,_ she repeated and dragged her eyes to meet his.

She saw every bone-deep hated facet of her upbringing and the worst of human nature in his expression. He embodied some of her worst fears and she instantly felt rage push at her from all sides. In her mind, she heard the words that she would use to knock his pompous arse down a peg or two (or six), and saw the moves she could deploy to show him that she was neither weak nor incapable.

All of this rushed into her mind… and she released it, allowing the fight to float gently away. His image flickered and she smiled; she swore in that moment that she caught a glimpse of green eyes and wild hair. With the hand holding the incomplete locket, she reached forward and took a step, her breath suspended as she walked passively through the nightmare and appeared on the other side.

* * * * *

Claudia glared at the doctor when he tried to reason with her again, and dragged herself to her feet. She’d watched as teary-eyed colleagues pushed Mrs Fredrick’s body through the infirmary and had allowed the medical professionals to assess her physical condition to make sure that she was in no danger of joining the ex-caretaker in the afterlife. That was as much time as she was prepared to give. After feeling almost every last drop of energy being drained from her body, the pain gradually began to wear off. It was only when she could draw an entire breath without difficulty that she realised exactly what had happened to her – she’d been disconnected from the Warehouse.

It was an odd feeling. She’d been so used to having that disembodied ‘voice’ in the back of her mind that she couldn’t remember her life being any other way. Now that it was gone though, it all came rushing back. Beneath the disorientation, something else simmered. Not relief exactly, but something very similar. She felt lighter. It was only without the heaviness of the Warehouse that she truly appreciated how much responsibility she’d carried on her shoulders.

Freedom was catch-twenty-two though – while she felt like a world of possibilities had just opened up, she worried that without her connection to the mystical building, she wouldn’t be able to help her friends.

It was this thought that pulled her from the comfort and care of the infirmary and into the arms of chaos. As she stepped outside, the first thing that caught her eye was the darkening cloud hanging directly over the island. In the years she’d been living there, she’d become very attuned to the changing seasons and the weather patterns. They weren’t strangers to storms, but a cloud formation like this was atypical for the time of year.

Her gaze took her from the ominous sky to the frantic movement of people and undead on the ground. In the redhead’s mind, the cave that had pierced the ground and now stood like an obelisk in the middle of the quad could only be one thing. The entrance to the Warehouse.

Though the squads were earning their pay, breaking their backs as they tried to beat back the hoard, Claudia could see that they were losing ground. An idea sprang to mind and she reached into her pocket to pull out a remote controller. _Should have field tested this sooner,_ she cursed herself and (out loud) added, “Here’s hoping it works anyway.”

* * * * *

Away from the fighting, on the far side of the newly formed sculpture of rock, Pete had discovered a pocket free from zombies and took advantage of the breathing room to have a good look around. A hand found his mostly grey hair and tugged at it absently.

“Come on, Pete,” he muttered to himself. “What would Myka do?” After turning around in a circle and finding nothing, he rolled his eyes. “Duh, Pete, she’d punch your arm and tell you to be yourself! What do you know about zombies?” Wracking his brain, he recalled every piece of pop-culture that he had from every movie he’d ever watched and quickly came to a conclusion. “They’re not zombies!”

He ran around the long, tapered side of the rocky protrusion, calling to his fellow agents in the quietest shouty-voice he could. In his haste, he caught his foot in a hole and stumbled to one side. Cursing, he wind-milled, side-stepped a funny little dance and managed to regain his balance just before catching sight of his friends. Breathless from eagerness, he gasped out his theory and waited for the couple to respond. They did, but not with the enthusiasm he’d hoped.

“No, Steve’O, listen!” he implored his friend. “No flesh or brain eating, barely any groaning, no aversion to light or fire, they’re not zombies!”

Steve looked to his husband; his eyebrows raised sceptically. Jason took the hint and turned to Pete. “They’re bursting out of the ground, Pete. They’re the walking undead.”

“Yeah, but not like ‘movie’ undead,” Lattimer insisted, his excitement still palpable. “All those suicides on TV last month…”

“John Cooper’s Microphone?” Jason followed quickly. “We never did find it,” he added and shared another look with the man beside him.

Catching on, Steve automatically checked his pockets for gloves and a static bag and glanced around. “You think they’re the suicide victims? Jeeze, even in death they can’t escape his fanaticism. They must be rising up from the Warehouse.”

It was at these words that Pete finally came down from his puzzle-solving high. “Aww, crud-buckets. That means the artefact is probably _in_ the Warehouse.”

“So much for our quick-fix,” Steve sympathised. “We’d better get back to help the others.”

Knowing that there was nothing else to be done from their current vantage, the other two nodded and the three of them ran cautiously back to the hoard and the entrance to the cave. The only thing left to do was to return to forcing their way into the Warehouse. One way or another, they needed to get past the cannon fodder.

* * * * *

As the Victorian scene faded away, Helena recognised her new setting as a restaurant. She was only slightly surprised to find that she hadn’t yet returned to the Warehouse and after glancing around, quickly surmised that she was in Myka’s nightmare. Like her own, the scenery appeared unimposing – even inviting to an outside observer – but she knew that whatever terrified Myka about this place, it was probably hidden in the brunette’s subconscious somewhere.

Passing the maître d’, HG stepped into the dining room and scanned the couples at their tables. Her instincts were already guiding her in one particular direction, but as her eyes clocked all of the turned heads, she felt compelled to follow their gazes and found herself staring at her wife’s petrified face.

A flash of light illuminated the diamond ring that floated ever closer to the brunette’s left hand and Helena felt all of her anger rise back to the surface. She flew across the room just as Myka’s voice cut through the cacophony of spirited conversation and cutlery on plates. Without conscious thought, she wrapped a hand around the proposer’s wrist and twisted it until the ring fell and he cried out in pain.

“Helena?” Myka asked as she found the strength to push away from the table and stumble to her feet. She needed to be sure that her rescuer was real and closed the short distance with every last bit of effort in her body.

HG released her captive and turned to steady her wife. “Darling, are you alright?”

Myka’s arms encircled the inventor’s shoulders and a choked sob fell against a pale neck. “I can’t… don’t have…”

“Control?” the Brit finished and pulled back to offer a reassuring smile. “I know, love. I had a similar experience.”

“How…?” the younger regent forced out, hoping that the inventor would understand enough to fill in the blanks again. She had just enough strength to hold on to HG’s shoulders and master the use of her tongue around those scant few words. She couldn’t begin to think how they were going to get back to reality and the Warehouse. “…Kids,” she added, sharing her concerns.

Helena opened her mouth to explain but felt the tap-tap of someone’s finger on her back and turned half way round to address the interloper. “May I help you?” she asked in her most uninviting tone.

“I want you to release my fiancée,” Mr Drab-Suit told the Brit forcefully.

HG raised an eyebrow and wrapped her arms tighter around her love’s waist. At the sound of his voice, Myka had begun to tremble ever so slightly – she was lost to the effects of the nightmare and Helena wanted her to know that she was not alone. “You are mistaken. Myka is my wife and we will be leaving shortly.”

“Your… wife!?” he asked, gobsmacked. “Myka, is this true?”

“Yes!” the brunette managed to shout – the irritation she felt at the sound of his voice managing to drown out her fear for a second.

“We shall see what your parents have to say about this!” he informed the couple and stormed out of the dining room.

HG managed to help Myka back into her chair and pulled another chair around to the same side so that they were still touching as much as possible. “Darling, it’s alright. We will find a way out of here. I actually discovered a reason to be glad for my time spent in bronze, other than for the fact that it brought me to you…” She briefly explained the need she’d felt to train her mind to block her doubts and sensibilities, and then how she’d used this to gain control over her nightmare. “At first, it was anger that allowed me the ability to see the cracks in this simulation, but absolute stoicism was the key to leaving my nightmare and entering yours.” She paused to stroke her fingers along the nape of Myka’s neck and leant forward to kiss her cheek. The tension in her wife’s body eased slightly, but the younger regent was still partially frozen by the effects of the artefact. “Perhaps clearing your mind will help you too?”

Regent Bering nodded as best she could and made a slight sound of approval before closing her eyes. She tried to remember the meditations that she’d participated in over the years. They were sparse but memorable enough to help her begin. Instead of fading into the background as she’d hoped, the noise in the restaurant seemed to get louder and the more she tried to block it out, the harder it became. Not only that, but individual voices rose above others and she caught phrases like _‘must be ill’_ and _‘disgraceful behaviour’_ , which burrowed through her thoughts and disturbed her efforts. Just as she felt that she might be getting somewhere, the sound of a commotion across the room and two very familiar voices hit her like a punch to the gut and her eyes shot wide open.

Jeannie and Warren spotted their daughter and marched towards her with her despondent date in tow. Any progress the brunette had made in pushing her fears away was dashed when she caught the disappointment and humiliation in her parents’ faces. Anxiety pulled her stomach into a whole new barrel of knots and she shrank back inside her shell, losing her ability to move or speak for herself.

Helena watched the change in her wife and jumped to her defence. She stood in front of the table, blocking their view, and took a stance that told the newcomers quite clearly to back off! This wasn’t real life though and the nightmare had its own mission. Mr and Mrs Bering looked the inventor up and down and began to lay into her, pulling no punches in their opinions of any relationship that might exist between the Brit and their daughter.

It was nothing the inventor hadn’t heard before and a thousand words of reason, of opposition filled her mind, but the effects of her detachment were still upon her and she knew that challenging the pair would be pointless. She needed to find some way to help Myka and feeding into the nightmare’s efforts was not it.

So, as she let the shadows of her in-laws talk themselves in circles, she analysed her love’s attempt to follow her advice. The artefact had taken their very essence. On the surface, they were quite similar; their individuality and the freedom to choose their own fate was stripped from the characters they inhabited. But, while deep down HG feared being lost in a crowd, Myka’s inner fear appeared to be in standing out.

“That must be it!” Helena exclaimed, oblivious to anything being said in front of her. Turning back to Myka, she reclaimed her seat and picked up the brunette’s hands, hoping that her touch could bring her wife some measure of comfort.

Myka could see Helena from the corner of her field of vision, but her body was focussed entirely on the people staring at her. She realised how stupid it was to be afraid of the judging eyes, but her entire youth had been spent listening to family, friends and peers tell her that she was weird for the things she enjoyed and excelled at. While she’d fought hard to battle that feeling and had found her place in the world – one that accepted her for who she was – her eidetic memory refused to let go of those early experiences. As a sensitive child and as someone who generally didn’t like to cause other people discomfort, she had allowed far too many people to walk all over her, always being the one to make sacrifices for others.

Now this artefact was taking advantage of that; it wanted to make sure that she knew she would never escape the fact that she was a social outcast – unless she let people help her to be someone she wasn’t.

“You will stop this nonsense, Myka,” Warren told her in no uncertain terms. He put his hand on the shoulder of the man who’d crept between him and his wife. “This is what’s best for you.”

“We only want to help you, dear,” Jeannie said in her most saccharine and condescending tone.

“Yes, Mother,” Myka heard the words fall from her mouth and wanted to drag them back. She saw Helena wince and felt her anger begin to boil again.

Having heard enough, HG leant over to monopolise the brunette’s view and began her new hypothesis in quick, whispered words. “Darling, listen… Perhaps any emotion other than fear is enough to counteract the artefact – if deployed in the correct fashion. If fighting my instinct to bludgeon people to death with my words was the key to my release,” she thought aloud, allowing her theory to take shape, “then perhaps the same holds true for you – you must battle your own instincts.”

Her confidence grew as the idea took shape in her mind and she looked into green eyes to see agreement reflected there. “If I know _you,_ darling, your fear here is that you will make a scene and cause others to feel uncomfortable.” A tiny nod was her answer and she looked at the three figures stood before them. “You had the courage to choose your own path many years ago – this is your chance to show them that you do not care for their well-meaning meddling.” Hoping that her theory was correct this time and taking faith in her wife, HG moved away and gave Myka space.

It only took those last few words to light a fire under Myka. _Well-meaning meddling._ They _always_ meant well… for themselves. Her narrowed eyes turned to the facsimile of her mother. “To help me?” she muttered. Aloud.

 _Yes!_ thought Helena and reached out with their bond to fuel her wife’s temper as best she could.

Having barely caught her daughter’s words, Jeannie stepped forward and nodded, smiling as she held out a hand. “Yes, dear. I don’t know what this… woman… has told you, but you are not one of,” she lowered her voice and looked furtively around, “ _them._ ”

A smile tugged the corner of Myka’s mouth. She remembered how much her mother’s rejection had hurt the first time and how good it had felt in those few seconds after to tell both of her parents that she was going to live her life the way she wanted to, with or without their approval. _I think I’m actually going to enjoy this,_ she thought to herself.

“One of _them_?” she repeated, her voice rising swiftly. Taking control of this character was like shaking off a body-wide cramp, but as her confidence grew, it became almost easy. She pulled the strings and climbed to her feet. “A lesbian you mean?” Her mother gasped, her father groaned and a whole host of muttering broke out around them. Her control wavered slightly with the renewed interest, but she bit back the urge to apologise and searched for the words she’d always secretly wanted to say.

“From the moment I was born, you wanted me to be something I’m not,” she began hotly. “I’m not the son _you_ wanted,” she said to her father before turning to her mother, “and I’m not the daughter _you_ wanted. I’m me - whatever that means – and it’s about time you stopped ‘doing what’s best for me’ or ‘helping’ when you have no idea how to do that!”

“Myka!” Jeannie cried, hurt and confusion both prevalent in her voice.

“No, Mom,” Myka interrupted as she pushed empathy and compassion away for once. “Your ‘help’ has never been about _me._  It’s always been about you wanting me to be different, so I fit into your narrow little box of what’s normal. Well, newsflash! there’s no such thing as normal! And if there was, I don’t think I’d want to be a part of it!” She pointed at the man standing in the same state of shock between the couple and felt, instead of the guilt and humiliation that usually came with making a scene, a thrill of excitement. “This guy is what you think I need!? No. You don’t really care what I need, what I want. You can’t possibly care because you’ve never taken the time to really get to know _me_. If you did, you would know that this woman – this wonderful, sexy, passionate genius beside me – _she_ is exactly what I need. She completes me in ways that I’m still trying to understand.”

Helena felt green eyes turn to her and met them halfway. She’d been watching their audience up until now, feeling the need to keep an eye out for and hint of danger, but she’d been listening intently and tears of joy, of pride, already filled her vision.

In a sudden moment of clarity – an epiphany – Myka knew what she had to do to make a statement. She’d never been enamoured with public displays of affection. The most she indulged in on a daily basis was holding hands, cuddling a little and the occasional peck (usually on the cheek). She was sensitive to other couples when they were giving each other tongue baths in the middle of the park or at the back of a coffee shop. She thought it distasteful. She and Helena had enough passion in the privacy of their own home to make up for any perceived lack of it elsewhere, but in this nightmare, she thought perhaps it was time to bend her own rules.

Having told her parents off, Myka dismissed them. As she’d decided almost two decades ago, she wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to make them see the world her way. Instead, she moved to face her wife completely and fixed a mischievous smile on the inventor.

Though Helena knew exactly what was going to happen next, she couldn’t stop the thrill of anticipation that filled her veins at that look. It was the kind of look that Myka saved for their bedroom, or for when they were alone and would soon be sequestered in a place where they were guaranteed privacy for a while. As Myka approached at a tantalising speed, she braced herself for impact. Any time that this beautiful woman touched her with such intent, she felt herself falling. In those few seconds before their bodies embraced, she experienced that same exhilaration that people must feel before surrendering themselves to gravity when jumping from an airplane. A rush of adrenaline filled her mind, the world slowed to a crawl, and then bliss as hands found her face and lips met her own.

Myka poured herself into the kiss, ignoring anything that might be happening around her. Had she had the capacity in that moment to think logically, she would have realised that this state of indifference and oblivion was precisely what she’d been trying to achieve following her wife’s advice. Helena wrapped around her like the perfect security blanket – warm, inviting, but not constricting. All of her worries melted away with that kiss and the scene around them dissolved.

* * * * *

Catherine rapidly became exasperated with following her brother’s nose. For the first twenty minutes, she was still full of adrenaline from their battle with an artefact, but as it wore off, her mind turned back to the magnitude of their situation and worry began to replace her high.

“How huge is this place?” she grumbled, falling back on old habits as she tried to hide her discomfort.

“It’s big, Cat,” Freddy replied. He tried not to let her tone annoy him like it usually did. As the sibling who’d spent the most time with the youngest Wells-Bering, he was the one most affected by her moods. His growing maturity and understanding didn’t automatically erase the urge he had to meet her irascible nature with his own irritation. Considering everything they’d experienced together lately, he thought it worth a try though. “We are getting closer though.”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“And it’s still true.”

“If _I_ was in charge here, I’d have an information point at the end of each aisle. Or close by at least. You know, one of those maps with ‘you are here’ and a big arrow, and a big yellow cube hanging above it with an ‘i’ on it, so you know exactly where to find it,” Cat chatted over the sound of insecurities that played in her head.

Freddy wanted to remind his sister that they weren’t in a theme park, and that there were probably information points for the agents somewhere, but he held his tongue. “Well, be sure to mention that to Aunt Claudia when we get out of here.”

“ _IF_ we ever get out of here.”

“We will, Cat.”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“We’re getting closer.”

“So _you_ say.”

“Do the pair of you ever stop arguing?”

Freddy and Cat froze, glanced at each other with hope written across their expressions, and turned to the sound of the voice. They’d passed into the food aisle and almost reached the far side. At the opposite end, two figures advanced towards them and the teens found themselves running back the way they’d come.

Myka and Helena wrapped their children in hugs and fussed over them for several seconds as they reassured themselves that Fredrick and Catherine were unharmed. They listened to a hurried retelling of Cat’s heroics and voiced their own concerns for how the youngest had made it into the Warehouse in the first place.

Cat shrugged. “I just appeared here.” She glossed over the terrified state she’d adopted on arrival, and the swearing, and related her journey to finding her brother.

“It’s a good job she did,” Freddy added softly and nobody needed to voice the reason for those words.

Knowing that this was yet another thing that would haunt them later, the regents filed this information under ‘to panic and cry over later’ and suggested that they continue to follow Fredrick’s lead to find Christina. Before they could move far though, Cat slowed to a halt and frowned at her parents.

“What is it, sweetie?” Myka asked.

“How do we know you’re actually here?” she looked at her brother, her eyes widening. “How do we know that you’re real?”

Helena both beamed with pride and felt a pang of regret as she returned to her daughter’s side. Considering what she and her wife had just experienced, it was a very valid and insightful question, but in realising it, she saw another piece of her child’s innocence melt away. “You have very good instincts, my love,” she praised the girl. Though Catherine was fast reaching her parents’ height, HG crouched in front of the teen and addressed her seriously. “You don’t know for sure. You can be sceptical all you want, but I advise you to listen to and trust those instincts. Until you decide, you will just have to trust for now that we are who we say we are.”

“That’s reasonable,” the girl responded, making the others chuckle.

“Well, thank you, darling. I do try,” HG teased and regained her feet.

The almost complete family continued on their way, being led by Fredrick’s connection with his twin and the regents’ knowledge of their surroundings. Though the children had fared well in their adventure thus far, they were both relieved to have their mothers taking charge. It was one thing to trawl the mall without adult supervision, but quite another to pick their way through mortal danger without their parents’ comforting presence.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to blame witches and ghouls for not having this up yesterday as promised. Still, since I seem to have lost all confidence for this story, it could have been worse! Lesson learned: The next time I dive into a story this long, I'm not going to make it so damned complicated. Let's see if I can actually pull this rabbit out of the hat, shall we?
> 
> Again, thank you for your patience and support.

** Chapter Sixteen **

Christina didn’t even notice this time when her feet moved of their own accord and carried her closer to the top of the pyramid. It felt like they’d been talking for hours and the sound of Heracles’ voice seemed to drift further and further away. Unconsciously, she shook her head to try to get rid of the muffled effect. The trance had been creeping up on her so gradually that she’d barely noticed it there and, though she didn’t really know it yet, she was in serious danger of succumbing to oblivion. From far below, a sudden cacophony of hurried steps and voices rose in panic and she turned to see what it was.

The sight of her parents, brother and sister snapped her out of whatever soporific effect had captured her. Hearing her mothers calling her name, she instantly noted how high she’d climbed and began a rapid descent, but before she could go too far, a hand reached out and closed around her arm. Christina jerked around and found Heracles’ face closer than ever – the skeletal shadow now as clear as day.

“I would not do that if I were you, Miss Wells-Bering,” he warned her, his features devoid of any jollity now.

Christina yanked her arm back and took a calculated step away, testing his threat. _What exactly can he do from up here?_ she wondered. “You’re not me.”

The heir’s eyes narrowed and he glared down at the regents, who were cautiously but determinedly approaching the base of the pyramid. He could not allow the champion to leave and neither could he allow her parents to come any closer. Reaching one hand out to the side, he used what small power he’d gained on entering the Warehouse and summoned a tall, fork-like instrument. With unerring accuracy, he lifted it over his shoulder, took aim and hurled it at the frantic parents.

A cry tore from Christina and her siblings as they watched the projectile cut through the air. They held a collective breath and only released it when three prongs bit into the ground mere inches from Myka and Helena. Relief was short lived however as the ground immediately began to shake beneath their feet. Christina’s arms flailed and she found her bottom on one of the steps as she gazed up in shock at the man who stood over her. Everyone froze and waited to see what he would do next. Regaining her composure, Christina pushed herself to her feet and straightened.

She recognised the weapon for the one her Victorian mother had used to almost cause a new ice-age. Her opponent’s choice was more than a simple warning. He was clearly telling them that he had resources beyond their grasp. Knowledge that could undo them. She thought that if they had any chance of forming an offensive, then they needed more time.

“Was that what I think it was?” she asked calmly.

“Do you think it a coincidence that your mother found the missing piece of the Minoan Trident and used it to decorate your coffin?” he segued.

Caught off guard, the young woman frowned. “You planted it?”

“The idea of it, yes. I wished to observe to what lengths Miss Wells would go when faced with the reality that is humanity at its worst,” he explained, as if the fact that his actions had almost contributed to mass genocide was of little consequence. “It was interesting. As was Miss Bering’s bravery and faith when confronted with imminent annihilation. Your parents are remarkable creatures.”

Seething inside, Christina searched for something to say that wouldn’t push him into action yet. “You did that simply for curiosity’s sake?”

“Oh, no – of course not,” Heracles laughed dismissively. “I wanted to know her threshold of intolerance, and to see how they resolved their difference of opinion.” He paused and stared for a moment as if gazing far back at a memory. “I struggled with that question once and it divided me.”

“What question?” CJ asked, confused by what she thought was semi-coherent rambling.

At the base of the giant structure, HG stared between the horribly familiar artefact and her child, who was engaged in conversation with the enemy again. She glanced to her right to meet her wife’s eyes, almost expecting a look that suggested she’d brought this situation upon herself, but only love and understanding gazed back at her. Myka’s hand slid into hers and she finally breathed again.

“It’s the ancient Warehouse archives. He wants to keep her up there alone,” the younger regent surmised and scanned what she could see of the apex of the pyramid. “Why?”

Helena swallowed and tried to ignore the twisting in her gut. “I can only think that he needs her and whatever is in there to complete his synthesis with the Warehouse.”

Fredrick, who stood at a distance behind his parents, still caught their concerns and added his two cents to the conversation, “And whatever he’s going to use to do that is at the top of that pyramid.”

Cat had already reached the same conclusion and was studying an item on a nearby shelf. After overcoming her fears and then successfully rescuing her brother, she felt her old confidence and thirst for adventure bubble to life beneath her skin and reached for a dispenser of purple gloves. “What about this, moms?” she called as she covered her left hand and plucked the scarab from its box. A faint scent of something familiar and fruity assaulted her nostrils as she held it and she turned to her parents with a gut feeling that she had at least part of the solution they were all hoping for.

HG and Myka however had the same flashback of a group of people trapped by time and an artefact that was extremely mobile when it chose to be. There was no time-machine in reach to interfere with the scarab’s function and no guarantee that they would ever see the artefact again if it escaped. Christina was still engaged in conversation with the enemy and had begun to climb steadily closer to the peak again. They had to do something… and soon!

Myka felt her wife’s hand tangling around her own again and squeezed it. The scarab was supposed to be in the dark vault – what was it doing here, in easy reach? Was the Warehouse helping them in its limited way? They studied their daughter’s excited expression, took a breath and let go of their doubts. Instantly, the smell of apples hit them both and they felt the same bone-deep assurance as their youngest.

“Freddy,” Myka prompted her son. “Do you think you could reach Chrissy from here?”

HG calculated the distance and knew that it would be a stretch. “Your aim will have to be incredibly accurate,” she warned.

Fredrick took the spare glove from his sister and held out his hand. “No sweat,” he gloated, ignoring the beads of moisture that gathered beneath his collar.

Very little time had elapsed since Heracles had stopped their advance with a flying trident, but already he could see that his twin was caught in the heir’s thrall again. He had to act fast, but couldn’t afford even the slightest error. He closed his eyes and tried to access the unique link that they’d always shared. He thought about the stories their mothers had told him of Christina’s imaginary friend and knew that she’d kept a part of him with her even after they were separated. He thought of the place where she’d unknowingly spent a century frozen in time and recalled Thomas’ recounts of the eight-year-old whose games of make believe often included a pram and baby Fredrick.

He pushed against the barrier that seemed to block his thoughts until, at last, he broke through.

* * * * *

Christina fell deeper and deeper into a fuzzy delirium the longer she listened to Heracles’ voice. Stuck with wanting to distract his attention away from her family – thinking to give them time to formulate a plan – she tried to hear without listening, hoping that this would be enough to counter his intention to draw her to the top of their climb. As his words and her surroundings began to move out of focus again though, she knew she was in trouble, or would be very soon. So, when another voice prodded at the back of her mind and offered her an anchor, she sought it out.

Fredrick’s voice became loud in her head, one word standing out above all others – catch! She’d barely turned before her hands reached out and a small object landed in her grasp. There was no time to acknowledge the cheer of triumph that poured from her family. The instant she recognised the scarab, she understood the plan; she had to trap Heracles inside.

Without purple gloves to protect her hands, she felt the heir’s influence wane and the artefact’s take over. The lake with clear blue water, the emerald green grass and the copse of trees where she’d met a six-year-old Thomas for the first time. All of these images filled her mind and she reached out blindly to grab Heracles and link their hands.

* * * * *

Fredrick sprinted up the steps of the pyramid, each giant leap taking all of his strength. The second the artefact left his hands, he knew that he only had a small window of time before the scarab claimed its victims and, once it did, it would go to ground. No one would grieve for Heracles trapped inside for eternity, but if it took his sister too, he couldn’t afford to lose it.

Barely noticing the surprise on the enemy’s face, Freddy watched his sister when he had a chance to look up and watched as her body tensed. She’d figured out what she was going to do with the artefact and was preparing to leap into action. He calculated the distance and knew instantly that there was a chance he might not reach them in time. Digging deep into his reserves, he shot upwards like a bullet, his feet barely touching each ancient stone as he covered the last few metres in record time.

As Christina grabbed Heracles, the pair stared at each other for a long second. The heir blinked and then the two of them were gone – disappeared into Limbo.

Fredrick’s gloved hand splayed out, his fingers stretching as far as they would go, before they clasped around something hard and he dropped to the step beneath him. He’d done it! They’d done it! He grinned at the whoop that came from below and rolled onto his back. In his hand, the artefact struggled but he kept a tight fist around it. His legs and chest burned; he thought he might have pulled a muscle; but the relief that filled him negated all of that.

Three bodies soon joined him, all breathing hard, though their ascent hadn’t been nearly as frantic as his. His eyes opened a crack and a warmth passed through him that had everything to do with the expressions of pride that looked down at him. Reaching up with his empty hand, he accepted his mum’s help and wobbled to his feet. Myka held out a static bag that she seemed to produce from thin air, and he dropped the scarab in, shielding his eyes as sparks erupted.

“That was so cool!” Cat exclaimed with excitement. Her enthusiasm was short lived however as she thought about Christina. “Will she be ok?”

HG gripped her daughter’s shoulder, her own concern fluttering around her stomach. “Love, I have every faith that Christina will do what needs to be done to ensure our victory over Heracles.”

“You’re not answering the question,” the teen noted and shot her mother a stern look.

“I know,” Helena replied patiently. She sighed – anguish showing on her face. “I wish I could give you more than that. If skill was the only factor here, I could be certain of Christina’s success, but we simply do not have all of the information to make that leap. Fredrick? I don’t suppose you have any more insight?”

Freddy considered the request for a moment, a frown etched across his features. Eventually, he sighed. “No, nothing.”

Myka stopped fussing over her son and took a look around. They were in the heart of the Warehouse, but they really needed to be where they could make contact with their friends who were still on the outside. Artie’s old office was the first place that came to mind. Aesthetically, the Warehouse might appear completely different, but structurally it was the same. Not only did the computer have access to the inventory and the umbilicus enter there, but there was something comforting in the thought of being in that room again working with her wife.

“Let’s get this upstairs,” she motioned with the static bag. “And then we can work something out. I know that Chrissy is capable, but I don’t think any of us like the idea of her being alone for too long with _him._ ”

Helena nodded vigorously and began down the steps. “We’ll find something,” she responded confidently. “I have an idea that might help.”

* * * * *

The sight that greeted Pete, Steve and Jason when they returned to the mouth of the cave stunned them into silence. The multiplying number of ‘zombies’ had been gradually overpowering their defences and they were in increasing danger of losing their fight against the onslaught, but now most of the enemy stood, frozen in various states of mid-movement – like one giant, gruesome game of musical statues. All of Alpha and Delta squads appeared to be caught in the middle of it. All bar Ant, who was off to one side, arguing with Claudia.

As they spotted their friend, the trio got moving again, jogging over just in time to catch the young man’s grievance.

“You had a full-on seizure,” he was reminding the caretaker. “The doctor said you need to rest for a couple of _days_ , not hours or minutes!”

“Oh! because, you were doing so well before I showed up?” Claudia challenged the young man. “Everything was hunky-dory, right?”

Seeing the returning agents, the squad leader tried to appeal to them. “Myka and Helena would say the same, wouldn’t they? She should be in the infirmary.”

Steve, who’d just finished hugging his best friend, looked the redhead over and considered their options. “Did you do that?” he gestured, with his head turned towards the immobilised mass.

“Yup. Goo-drone,” she pointed to a device that hovered near by, awaiting its next orders. “HG and I tweaked with the formula for the ‘trapped in amber’ effect.”

“Awesome,” Pete commented while Jason silently nodded.

Steve carefully hid his approval behind the concern he felt for her well-being. “On a scale of one to ten, ‘one’ being a complete liability and ten being…” For a second, he searched for a word that would make his point.

“Rambo!” Came a suggestion from his left.

Agent Jinks cracked a smile and just about managed not to roll his eyes. “Thanks, Pete.” He turned back to the techie. “How ready are you?”

Claudia’s eyes narrowed, knowing that she couldn’t fake her way past the human lie-detector. “Five,” she admitted. “Moving through six and ready to reach seven on hate-fuel alone.”

The senior agents exchanged a look before Steve smiled sadly at his best friend. He would love an excuse to send her somewhere safe, but she had every right to make that decision for herself and they couldn’t be picky about the help they accepted. As she’d already demonstrated, she was more effective in this fight than they had been so far. “I don’t think we have much choice. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be dragging you back to the doc even if you’d said ‘four’.” To the miffed young man who just felt like he was trying to help, he shrugged and patted Ant’s shoulder.

Claudia watched the exchange and offered an apologetic look of her own. “I appreciate the thought, Tommy, but you need all the help you can get,” she reminded him and gestured to the expanse of the quad, which was now eerily quiet.

Whether the ground was finally depleted of dead fanatics, or the goo-drone’s effects reached beyond what their eyes could see, there was no telling, but the small group were relieved to see the end of this battle regardless.

The trio of ex-agents wandered off to inspect the battle field, leaving Claudia and Thomas alone. She watched his expression carefully as his gaze wandered over his frozen colleagues and sighed in sympathy. “They’ll be ok. It’s just like stasis. They’ll probably get that ‘ahh, I’m falling out of bed’ feeling when we reanimate them, but other than that, there are zero side effects.”

“Apart from bruised egos,” he noted and sighed himself. “We haven’t had the best success rate in this whole crazy situation, have we? I thought we were finally ready to prove our worth.”

“Hey,” Claudia challenged, moving slightly to stand in front of him. “Your guys took the pressure off when it was needed. Don’t discount that. I didn’t start hiring people to be heroes, or agents. You were all chosen for your compassion and vision, not because we needed soldiers.” She checked to make sure she had his undivided attention before adding, “This isn’t an army and you haven’t failed at anything.”

Thomas was surprised by the weight that lifted from his shoulders with those words. He had fallen into the same trap as his girlfriend – assuming responsibilities that weren’t his. He nodded. “Thanks.”

“No sweat,” she replied as she started to lead him towards the others. “Let’s see if a hair-pin is enough to get us inside.”

After explaining to everyone the effects of the new goo, the redhead relayed her news about the seizure and her severed connection with the Warehouse. They were understandably shocked and concerned. Once that wore off however, she filled them in on her hypothesis and the options she’d already considered. As she talked, she reflected on the time between the first effects of the seizure and her escape from the infirmary. While she hadn’t waited long before ripping out her IV, there was enough time for her brain to think up some seriously weird dreams.

            Hooked up to a machine in the infirmary, Claudia lay, her body still and deathly pale. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck and now someone had inserted a straw into her and was sucking the life from her veins. Every muscle hurt, her heart beat a frantic rhythm and images flashed behind closed eyelids that were memories, but not her own.

She saw sand and felt the burn of the sun against her skin. She sat higher than those around her, making her elevated status clear, and when she spoke… when she moved, eyes followed. They bowed to her; their bodies supplicated in deference to her every whim. She was a conqueror. She was Alexander – the victor, the liberator, the punisher… The Great…

_During the years since the beginning of his campaign, special items had been discovered and brought to the king’s attention. Quite a collection of such items existed in his possession and he had explored their uses extensively. As time wore on and his collection grew, he learned that some of his acquisitions could be put to use in furthering his influence over the new regions he entered. Experimentation with one ‘artefact’ led to trials with another, and so on. Until one day, his eldest son, named Alexander in his image, attempted to combine two artefacts. The young prince, ever in competition with his brother, had wanted to gain the upper hand but his plan backfired and disaster struck; he lost the use of his legs. The father, stricken by his son’s deformity, set a course to house his collection in a safer place. A place where none but he could access._

_He called this place ‘The Warehouse’._

Shaking off the memory of the hallucinogenic dream, the redhead examined the cave as intensely as her friends were. They scoured every nook and cranny, hoping against hope that they could find some way to open a door. As these things often happened, it was Pete, by accident, who finally managed to activate the release mechanism. After a third pass around the exterior and interior, he huffed and threw himself onto a boulder in protest of the task. Whether from his weight or the angle at which he launched his body down, a definite ‘click’ echoed around them and a boulder sank into the ground, revealing a dark tunnel beyond.

Silence surrounded the quintet until Pete sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders. “Goonies never say die,” he declared before marching forth.

* * * * *

**_Persepolis, Persia – 325 BC_ **

_A sudden gust of wind kicked up the dust and sand at the warrior’s feet and accompanied her into the tent. The heavy canvas flapped closed behind her and removed the harsh glare of the midday sun from her vision. It was noticeably cooler inside and she took a moment to pause at the entrance, glad for the chance to catch her breath. Their great leader stood in his usual position, hunched over a map of his conquered nations while his closest generals made their updates and offered advice. Business complete, they saluted and left._

_“Sister,” Alexander’s voice reached his visitor. “What brings you to my tent?”_

_Cynane stepped up to the opposite side of the table and joined the military mogul in surveying his territories. “Brother, I came on swift feet after your summons. You have my sympathies.” A slight stiffening of his limbs and a grunt was the only acknowledgement she got, but she let it slide. Grief had many faces. “I have heard tell of a great structure that you are building. There is much speculation as to its purpose.”_

_“Soldiers’ tongues wag like old women’s,” Alexander muttered to himself. “Its purpose is of no consequence to anyone but me.”_

_“Heracles believes otherwise,” she told him._

_Alexander paused in his perusal and stared at the table-sized map as if it could give him incomparable answers. As he mused, a pained expression fell over his still-youthful features. “Heracles yearns for the impossible… A brother who yields to his ambitions, and a father who concedes his every triumph.”_

_Cynane calculated the response and pursed her lips. Though a month had not yet passed since her eldest nephew’s unfortunate accident, she noticed the significant changes in both her brother and his younger son. Any warmth that had existed between the two seemed non-existent now and the hero worship that the boy had carried for his father appeared to have disappeared with it. She knew of the mystical properties of the items in her brother’s possession and was wary; success was something to be worked for and serious consequences faced those who attempted shortcuts to their goals._

_The brother she’d known was ambitious and driven. He could be ruthless and impulsive in his pursuits, but he had never shied away from the long, hard path to victory. Underneath that hard exterior though had beat the heart of a man filled with compassion and caring - this was the man who stood before her now. Regardless of the obvious favouritism he harboured for his eldest heir, he did not want to make the same mistake twice and that was why he was choosing to hide his hoard of artefacts – to protect his sons from themselves. Alexander the Great might not have allowed an unfortunate mistake or two upstart boys to alter his plans, but Alexander the Father saw the horrors of his own making and intended to put them to bed._

_“He believes that you have the power to make him king upon your death. And claims that he will use your collection of artefacts to help the people,” she continued, her tone suggesting neither belief nor scepticism. Whether or not anyone should be allowed to use these artefacts for their own reasons was a prevalent question in her mind._

_“Does he not think that I desire the same thing? Numerous times, I have listened to his arguments and have attempted to explain the risks involved – for he and others who would wish to use these magics. He simply refuses to heed my advice, and so I have closed the matter.”_

_“He is young and idealistic. He believes that his goal is selfless – founded in compassion. And of course, Alexander wishes to reverse the consequences of his rash undertaking.” She mulled over the conflict and came to her own conclusion. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to fight yourself than it does to engage entire armies in battle. I admire that strength in you, brother. I support your decision.”_

_While his sister had not always agreed with him, she was a woman of principal, so when she did take his side in matters, he knew that she did so with all of her heart. Alexander sighed with relief and nodded, the tiny gesture telling her that he accepted her offer._

_The relief he felt was two-fold. Since the public assumed that his eldest son would no longer inherit the throne, his second son had become outspoken and unreasonable. Heracles had idolised his older brother, almost as a father-figure, until his ambitions replaced affection with resentment. The king’s difficulty lay not in refusing his eldest son’s wishes, but in refusing himself the desire to give in to temptation. He was divided. The time he’d dedicated to teaching young Alexander his command, campaign and conqueror strategies was time that he’d also spent in growing fond of his offspring. In many ways, they’d been kindred spirits and he begrudged the fact that Heracles was not more like his brother._

_Wasn’t he a conqueror of nations? A leader who’d knitted together the known world? Surely, if anyone was worthy of using an artefact for his own purpose, it was he. Prince Alexander’s arguments merged with the king’s own, multiplying the temptation of taking matters into his own hands – to see his intended heir whole again and able to take succession. Yes, he knew that there were risks to activating the magics in his possession, but his whole adult life had been about beating those odds. With these thoughts, came the overriding feeling that had fuelled every step of his successes thus far – he was exceptional; he was superior to other mortals._

_Still, he was a leader who had higher hopes for the people he ruled than to have them sucked into an oblivion or some other such unfortunate fate. No, the prince had shown his incompetence and Heracles’ misguided ideas for the pursuit of godhood had to be thwarted, for the good of the people and the world as a whole. No matter how much the conqueror’s subconscious attempted to persuade him otherwise._

_Cynane joined his efforts to erect a building with sufficient space and security to house several ‘special items’. Together, they returned to Macedonia to oversee the task, but they soon discovered that it was not a construction that they could approach like a simple dwelling or centre of commerce. The artefacts did not make amicable companions and several times, Alexander was forced to intervene when their magics spilled over and chaos ensued. Never before had he tried to store his collection in such close proximity and the difficulties brought home to him the importance of what he and Cynane were attempting to do._

_As the building grew, so too did the conflict in Alexander’s heart. Heracles had followed him from Persia and continued to dog his every step. (His older son could not travel as fast, but was no doubt close behind.) No amount of reasoning could dissuade the younger prince from his obsessive mission but, contrary to his original intention, Alexander felt compelled to listen. He told himself that he was doing it to build bridges, but in the darkest hour of the night, insidious thoughts surfaced and brought his real intentions to light. Every time he spoke to his son, he found more logic in Heracles’ words and temptation tugged harder at his gut._

_He felt like he was being torn apart at the seams – the two halves of his personality straining in opposite directions. Where before, his ambitious side had always taken control and led him to where he wanted to be, this time he felt as if that ruthless attitude was leading him straight into trouble. Caution warred against this dominant instinct to the point where he began to wonder if there weren’t other forces at work._

_Fifteen months saw the purpose-built structure days from completion and a sleep deprived conqueror at the end of his wits. Alexander stood in his childhood home, not a mile from his latest success, and screwed a thumb against his temple in an attempt to stave off another headache._

_“I am concerned that he may have a logical point to make,” he muttered to his companion as she handed him a mug of something steaming. “Suppose that we_ are _denying the world the benefits of our findings. Suppose that they_ are _meant for mass consumption as Heracles suggests?”_

_“Brother, do not falter now,” Cynane implored the king. She had witnessed his struggle for the last year and counselled him through every crisis of faith. As time wore on though, it was clear that he was struggling more and more with his decision to lock his artefacts away from the world._

_No matter how much she warned him against consulting with his sons, Alexander relented and sought an audience with the voracious princes. In the beginning, she had looked upon her younger nephew with the eyes of an aunt who sympathised with his goals, but as months passed, she saw his persistence as an effort to take power. While she had always trusted her brother’s judgement, the loss of his eldest son as an heir to the throne and the side-effects of handling their inventory had taken their toll on him – he was not the man she had known at the start of this endeavour._

_“You are so sure of our goals?” he asked her, not for the first time._

_“As Heracles attests, there may be deserving individuals in society,” she conceded softly. “But can we ensure that they will not find themselves worse off, as did your eldest? What of others? So many more would use these powers to their advantage without concern for any innocents in their path. We cannot take the place of the gods, brother – these artefacts need to be further understood before they can be used to help those in need.” Not seeing any change in his demeanour, she hardened her stance and leant into his personal space. “I will not allow all that you have achieved to go to waste. I admire Heracles for standing by his convictions, but he is wrong. Using these magics will benefit no one. We will continue as planned.”_

_Alexander watched his sister as she stormed from his home, and reached up with a hand to claw at his pounding chest – at the monster within._

* * * * *

Limbo looked significantly different from the last time she’d seen it. The abnormally uniform and luscious grass no longer laid the ground beneath her feet, nor could she see the azure glow from the pond by which she’d sat with her Mama the first time they’d met. There were no solid buildings, just impressions of shapes of varying sizes, and no people milling around or standing as statues. Starved of the fuel on which it relied, the land within the artefact was now mostly empty. The difference was jarring and it took her several seconds to find her bearings. Thankfully, the man who stood before her was equally disoriented. She had time to take a cautious step back, putting some space between them.

Heracles’ eyes had widened at the contact with the artefact and the transport, but they hardened as he took in his surroundings and realised that this was not part of his plan. The dark, skeletal shadow, that had flickered sporadically over his face, grew darker, until it was almost solid enough to touch. Behind the phenomenon, the young face turned from anger into something that Christina could only describe to herself as fear. It didn’t seem possible – Heracles had orchestrated so many horrors, how could he be afraid? – but her sharp eyes caught the fearful expression, plain as day, before the shadow abruptly shrank back into cool blue.

“Well played, Miss Wells-Bering,” the heir congratulated his opponent calmly, all trace of panic erased from his features. “But I believe the next move is mine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Hope this was worth the wait!


	18. Chapter 18

** Chapter Seventeen **

**_Persepolis, Persia – 324 BC_ **

_Heracles felt desperate as he watched his father and aunt put the finishing touches to their project. He had been so sure that he was getting through to Alexander with his side of the argument that he could almost see his future stretching out before him. It was criminal to lock so many wonderful things away from the world. Such magics belonged to the whole of mankind and not just one person. It was not the building that resisted his logic though. As he watched the structure grow, he began to realise that it was the perfect place from where he could run his altruistic operations. After catching rumours of the artefacts and their peculiar behaviour, he conceded that safe containment was essential, but their new home only served to convince him of his goal._

_The Warehouse would be the perfect hub to where people might travel for their dire needs. He could be the benefactor to thousands… millions. None need suffer so long as they could find their way to his father’s kingdom. In years to come, he envisioned the ability to travel far and wide – to cross leagues over the sea – to bring happiness to all. With his brother’s abdication, and his father in accordance, as a family they could offer so much to the world. He would no longer be the invisible, insignificant sibling, but a trail blazer in his own right. They would have to acknowledge his worth if he managed to accomplish all of this!_

_The king was close to turning aside his misconceived notions of confinement for the people’s safety, but Heracles had yet to convince his aunt, and time was running out. The security system was due to be activated at any moment, leaving him with the next few minutes to make his last-ditch attempt._

_In keeping with the local architecture, The Warehouse was a basic cuboid body, but ordained with friezes depicting various stories of the gods, and some of Alexander’s own tales of conquest. Cornices and architraves were all finely crafted, and the entire front of the building boasted several towering pillars. Heracles loitered across the street, his eyes never leaving the double doors at the front of the building as he waited for Alexander and Cynane to appear. His heart beat a rapid staccato. He felt as if destiny and time hung in the balance between him and his goal._

_It wasn’t simply about bringing his brother under his rule any more. Or about impressing his father enough to raise some semblance of pride and affection between them. He saw the reverence that people had for his father and couldn’t help but want some of that. It had grown beneath his genuine desire to help people, until any thought of stopping, any chance he might have had of changing his mind was lost to his ego._

_Movement caught his gaze and he slipped from the shadows to charge over the dusty street. Two pairs of eyes turned towards him, both appearing resigned when they recognised their guest, as if they had anticipated his presence._

_“Heracles, your conviction to your beliefs does you credit,” Alexander told his son. His shoulders were slumped, belaying the exhaustion that had seeped deep into his bones and he reached out to clasp the younger man on the shoulder. “However, it is fruitless to petition me on this subject any longer.”_

_“Father, you know that this isn’t the way,” Heracles pleaded. “Your people worship you already, think of how the world will flock to you when you can raise the dead, cure the sick, end suffering!”_

_Cynane watched her brother closely. The moral struggle he’d put himself through had taken its toll and she knew that his strength was waning. The temptation to further his ambitions was solid and gaining on him. “Heracles,” she implored gently. “As we have explained many times, these artefacts are much too dangerous to be used arbitrarily. The gifts of the gods are dangerous, as your brother discovered. We have not the right to raise the dead and we know not what might be the cost of our philanthropy.”_

_The young prince’s eyes narrowed with determination. He’d seen the benefits of using artefacts and he wasn’t going to give in to the fear that appeared to have his aunt in its grip. “Father was aided by these magics in his campaigns across Africa and beyond!”_

_“At the cost of his health!” the warrior snapped back. Turning away from the misguided youth, she faced her sibling again, knowing that they needed to secure their inventory once and for all. “Brother, you know the dangers that we will face – that mankind will face – if we do not make the difficult decisions. Ultimately it is up to you, but I implore you to listen to the part of you that recognised the perils of playing with what is little understood.”_

_Alexander closed his eyes. Despite having faced numerous enemies in battle and led armies across foreign lands to unite dispirit peoples under his rule, he had not faced a struggle so rough on his conscience than this one. Secure in the belief that he was making the right choice, he’d always slept easy before and after battle. Planning his campaigns had filled him with energy – the adrenaline pushing him ever forward towards his ambitions. He had never experienced a crisis of faith until this moment._

_Determination ran in the family though and since he had given his word to follow through with containing the artefacts, he pulled his thoughts back together one last time. Ignoring his son’s pleading, he looked to his sister and nodded. “It is time.”_

_Much research had been involved in finding the best method of securing the building from unwanted intruders. Alexander’s fascination with the Egyptians had provided many ideas for traps, but those would only go so far against someone with the right skills. They felt backed into a corner and agreed eventually to look amongst the growing inventory for supernatural aid._

_It was just south of Egypt that a promising discovery was made. Scouts had taken shelter in a natural formation of caves and, during their stay, dug up a cache of ancient tribal tools. Amongst these, one in particular caught the conqueror’s attention. A small, ceremonial knife – crafted from a combination of bone and stone, it was designed to fit in the palm of a hand with the blade protruding from between the first and second fingers. After some speculation and discussion with tribes local to that area, the conclusion was that the blade had been used to distinguish friend from foe. A symbol was scratched into the entrance to the homestead and an identical mark given to anyone with permission to enter._

_Trials with the artefact revealed the presence of mystical properties and further experimentation confirmed its suitability as a barrier against unwanted intrusion. Decision made, they focussed on finishing construction. When that was complete, they chose the Eye of Horus as their symbol and took turns in cutting it into their skin._

_With his mind set, Alexander removed the ceremonial knife from a fold in his robe and weighed it in his palm. Was it his imagination or did it feel heavier? Approaching the left-hand side of the door, he raised the blade and began to carve. As the symbol took shape, he felt the burn of the mark on the back of his neck. He could hear Cynane struggling to hold Heracles back, so paid the singular sensation little mind and refocussed his energies. He couldn’t afford to rush and risk deforming the image; he had no idea how that would affect his bond with the building and had no desire to find out._

_His hand moved through the final stroke, bringing the curve down beneath the eye and completing the iconic image, and then a sharp cry rose from behind and a solid body crashed into his. A familiar hand closed over the top of his and the ever-sharp blade drew blood._

_Cynane clutched at the mark on her neck and tried to breathe through the searing pain. For a while, through each new phantom stab, she had managed to hold onto her nephew, but at the final cut, the pain filled her body, temporarily robbing her of control over her nerves, and she let go. She could never have anticipated what happened next. As Heracles rushed his father and attempted to wrestle the artefact from the king’s hand, the men appeared to merge before her eyes. The two figures blurred into a swirling, monochromatic mass and the door behind them glowed brightly._

_There was no way to tell the difference between the two men, so the warrior watched in horror as a battle ensued before her eyes. And it was a battle; the violent sparks that erupted and the thunder-like claps that filled the street were testament enough to that. But a battle of what, she didn’t know._

_Like a Taoist work of art, dark and light circled each other, alternately gaining the upper hand and then falling back. A timeless struggle of juxtaposed purposes. In its simplest terms: good vs evil – but nothing in life is ever that simple._

_As the mass became solid again, twisting into a corporeal figure, light and dark separated, each taking something of the other, but only the barest reminder of what the men had once been. Heracles – dazed and disjointed, stepped back from the building and staggered into the street. A dark-grey cloak clung to his body, slipping into his pores with each step he took, until nothing but the image of a man was left._

_Cynane looked to see if her brother had suffered the same fate, but nothing appeared to remain except a blinding light. A thin sliver of grey continued to spin lazily at its heart, but if Alexander was still a part of the mix, his form was no longer that of a man. The warrior watched on, helpless as The Warehouse welcomed the remnants of her brother into its walls, the glowing door blinding all onlookers until the stoop stood empty._

_“No!” Heracles shouted and rushed back towards the building._

_The warrior reacted, throwing her body into the fray, still intent on protecting the Warehouse, but she need not have bothered. As the young man came in range of the double doors, the air appeared to shimmer around them and Heracles found himself being thrown several metres, his body hitting the foot-trodden earth below. She relaxed slightly. The artefact had worked. The prince’s interference had taken Alexander from them, but the Warehouse had its protection._

_Distraught eyes gazed at her in sorrow before they darkened. It was with that look that Cynane knew the fight was not over. If her suspicions were correct, a part of her brother now lived in the boy – the ruthless, calculating conqueror, who would stop at nothing to fulfil his ambitions – and he would find a way into the Warehouse eventually._

_She hoped that she was ready when that day finally came._

* * * * *

HG led her family back through the Warehouse, aided by her wife’s impeccable memory of every short-cut, to where much of their time together had begun. Artie’s old office. While every new Warehouse director and their agents inevitably put their own stamp on the space and the building’s architecture shifted to suit its new host country, very little inside had actually changed in the last decade. Helena had always found delight in the surprising number of knick-knacks from Caturanga’s study suddenly peeking out from one of Artie’s bags or from the corner of a shelf. The room evolved its own personality over time, each rebirth of the Warehouse allowing it to absorb facets of new characters.

She threw herself into the chair at the desk and began tapping away at the keyboard. Far from her early, hesitant ‘pecking’ at the keys, her fingers now flew at the speed of an experienced typist, the action bringing a wry smile to her partner’s lips. “Ah,” she exclaimed before too long. “Here we are…” A final flurry of taps brought her search to the screen and she felt the three bodies behind her move closer.

Myka pulled a pair of glasses from a pocket in her jacket and began to read over her wife’s shoulder. “The history of Warehouse 1,” she muttered to herself. “Are these from the archives?”

The inventor nodded. “After our dealings with Warehouse 2, Claudia thought it prudent to create digitals copies of everything. After all, one can never predict when some mad person might take it upon themselves to cause a stir,” she added, a slight edge to her voice that caught her wife’s attention. “I had no idea whether it was a project that she ever completed, but it appears as if she made some significant inroads.”

Sympathetic fingers found tense muscles and squeezed them absentmindedly. Myka felt the ever-present guilt that accompanied any conversation around HG’s foray to the dark-side. Her wife would never be able to rid herself of that regret entirely. “Is there any information about Heracles on here?” she asked, though considering the fact that Claudia had created the database, she doubted that there would be. It would have been the first place the caretaker looked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Helena replied. “However, I considered that Alexander, in building the first Warehouse, must have dabbled with different methods of controlling the artefacts in his possession. At the very least, he may have found a way to suspend the function of the ‘magic’ within. Possibly a method that proved unsustainable in the long run?”

“The scarab predates the Warehouse,” Myka noted. “That might count for something.”

Catherine’s gaze flicked back and forth between her parents as if she was watching a tennis match. It sounded to her like a long shot and, while standing around with no clear purpose, she began to feel anxious. “What do you want Freddy and I to do?”

The regents exchanged a look and seemed to sigh simultaneously. Myka met her daughter’s hopeful gaze and bit her lip. “You’re not going to like it.”

* * * * *

Christina heard the renewed confidence in her opponent’s voice and felt her own wane. At two thousand years old, of course he was going to have backups for his backups. Time had given Heracles everything he needed to be prepared for this moment, but what had it given her? This pessimistic thought settled over her out of the blue and she realised again how tired she was.

“What do you want!?” she asked with exasperation.

Cool-blue eyes fixed on her and a small, dead smile lifted the heir’s mouth. “I want that which you want – to help people.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” she continued. “With everything you’ve done, the people you’ve destroyed to get here, how could you possibly want to help?”

“Oh, my naïve young friend,” he began softly. “This world of Endless Wonder has so much more to offer than you realise. Alexander knew it, but was too much of a coward in his final days to take charge. His eldest son’s accident and his sister’s interference… they dulled his senses. He became short-sighted in his goals and lost the essence of what made him great. Together, he and Cynane made the mistake of locking artefacts away from the world.” At this, his eyes brightened and he looked at Christina with a hunger that chilled her to the bone. “You and I have the power to change all of that.”

She swallowed, hesitating over the word that sat on the tip of her tongue. Did she really want to know? What good could come of it? But curiosity grew in the back of her mind until she could hold it back no longer. “How?”

“We are children of the Warehouse, literally and figuratively. Our relationship with it surpasses that of any other.” He paced casually, as if giving a sermon to an enthralled crowd.

To her horror, Christina realised that she was once again being drawn in by his words… his voice.

“While it has evolved for many hundreds of years, it now grows weak. The world is changing too rapidly and it cannot sustain itself any longer. You and I can make it great again.”

Was this actually making sense? Some distant part of her brain recalled many lessons in history and politics and unease sat heavy in her stomach, but she struggled to break away from whatever power drew her to the heir.

“The world’s leaders are fickle and uninterested in uniting the people for any reason other than their own advancement. We can change that. We can bring them to heel. We can unite the world under one banner and bring about an everlasting peace.”

World peace. Impossible, and yet she couldn’t help considering the possibility.

“All you need do, is to take my hand. Your sacrifice can end suffering for all. You would become the heart of the Warehouse and fuel our campaign.”

It was tempting. Too tempting. The history of the world looked like one long list of people with money and status oppressing the masses. Every so often, a benevolent figure stood out from the crowd and caused a stir – sacrificed for the greater good, turned hearts away from hate for a short while. What if she could tip the balance?

There were artefacts that could find the worst in a person and amplify it to devastating consequences. The lasting influence of those power-hungry individuals across the ages. If she was the heart of the Warehouse, could she also be its conscience? Could her moral compass guide Heracles’ hand and temper his ambitions so that he never became the tyrant that he was so close to being?

Or would she be consumed by a soul that had two thousand years of experience?

“Suppose I believe you… agree with you,” she began tentatively. “I take your hand – then what happens?”

The heir’s expression flickered between hopeful and confused for a few seconds. The shadow, that clung permanently to the edges of his figure, darkened and a confident, superior air rose to surround the man.

“I will finally be whole again and free to follow my path once more.” He paused as a struggle warped his features again, but unlike before, the battle was short-lived. “The world will know me again…

… Alexander the Great will ride to victory and unite the world under one flag!”

* * * * *

The dank tunnel stretched on much further than the old umbilicus had and the group of ex-agents, led by the ex-caretaker, were beginning to wonder if it would ever end when they turned a sharp bend and abruptly found themselves face to face with a large door.

The metal monstrosity seemed ten times less passable than the mouth of the cave, where they had been unable to even find a door. Hearts sank, but their waning hope didn’t last long; their feet brought them close – Thomas hovering an inch or two in front of his companions – and as they approached, they all heard a clunk, as if someone had just turned a key in a lock. Before their eyes, the door creaked open and welcomed them inside.

Almost as soon as they stepped over the threshold, familiar voices greeted them.

* * * * *

“What is this?” Cat asked in horror as she followed her Ma through an ancient looking door and found a room that was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, of which, each was full of dusty looking books.

Freddy stood in the doorway behind his mother and sister, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked around the room as if he had expected a library twice its size. They were grasping at straws and the adults didn’t have time to be delegating jobs that would need days of training to complete. He wanted to be able to do more but held his tongue.

“The manual,” Myka told the teen with a pseudo-casual air and a wave of her hand.

“Which one?” the teen wondered, her eyes searching for what she hoped was the smallest of the choices on offer.

“All of them,” the regent answered, deadpanned.

Cat’s jaw very nearly hit the floor. When her American mother had suggested that the teens needed to understand more about the function of the Warehouse so they could feel more useful, she had expected that there would be reading involved. There nearly always was since her parents’ lifelong addiction was the written word. _This_ was ridiculous though.

“You’re joking, right?” the teen asked her mother. “We don’t have time for me to wade through all of these; Chrissy needs help now!”

Myka saw the bubbling anger in her daughter’s gaze and made a conscious effort to keep her own voice calm. “I know, Cat. I don’t expect you to read all of them, and I promise, I’m not trying to fob you and Freddy off with a menial task. That being said, your mother and I cannot delegate anything meaningful to you when we have so little information ourselves, and you have already demonstrated that you have a unique connection with the Warehouse.

“I can recite every word of this manual, but right now I can’t tell you if any of it’s relevant.” She paused to glance between her children and hoped that what she was saying not only made sense, but would help them all get results. “You saw something in that scarab that I couldn’t. You have an instinct that goes beyond your training. I want you to use that instinct to see if anything in here can help us. Do you understand?”

Mollified, Cat released the anger that had tightened her stomach and breathed deeply. “I get it.” She was not used to being the one with the special bond to anything and felt suddenly burdened with something great and terrifying. She looked to her brother and found a supportive smile aimed back at her. “We’ll get started,” she told their mother, meeting a brief kiss before the regent disappeared.

* * * * *

Myka hovered over the back of HG’s chair, one finger curling through her hair and her teeth biting her lip. Their search of Claudia’s database had identified the name of the artefact that Heracles had used to secure the original Warehouse. Both regents were a little disturbed by the barbaric practice.

“You have to wonder, at what point did they decide to stop using the knife to carve the Warehouse’s symbol directly onto skin,” Helena mused as she read the first caretaker’s account of events. She tried not to think about the fact that the person who wrote those words was her great (to the nth power) grandmother. If she did that, she would find herself tangled once more in her thoughts about Heracles and their shared lineage.

“Somehow, the Warehouse has given up that power and trusted the people who do its bidding instead,” Myka voiced her thoughts. “Warehouse 2 was certainly adamant about keeping people away, even to the point of forcing its agents to endure those trials when they wanted to enter.”

The inventor twisted round in her chair slightly and appeared pensive for a moment. “And yet, Claudia was able to kidnap Artie, and James McPherson had enough access to wait close by while Leena unwittingly smuggled me out.”

“Maybe it’s evolved? Become more sentient and aware of the world as time’s gone by?” the American wondered aloud. “You remember what Mrs Fredrick told us about the caretakers when they become joined to the Warehouse; it absorbs some of their personality.”

“So, are the Warehouse and the caretakers’ combined consciousnesses a single entity, or do they operate independently?” the inventor asked as she tried to figure out exactly what they were dealing with.

“That’s a good question,” Myka replied, though she had no immediate answer. She was saved having to make the effort when the sound of voices reached them and the exterior door to the office slid open. She tensed automatically as HG rose to her feet beside her, but they soon recognised the new arrivals and each breathed a sigh of relief. “Perhaps Claudia can give us some insight,” Myka suggested before moving to greet their friends.

“Give it a rest, Pete!” the redhead’s exasperated voice echoed through the space. Grumbling could be heard from the disgruntled agent, but was drowned out by young woman’s gasp. “HG! Myka!” she called with excitement and leapt at the regents.

The inventor received her young friend with surprise but eagerly returned the hug. She had feared the worst when Mrs Fredrick had passed away and Claudia had been whisked away to the infirmary. Tears welled in each eye and she squeezed tighter. “Welcome back, Miss Donovan.”

“It’s good to see you, Claude,” Myka added, echoing her wife’s sentiment and wrapping an arm around the redhead’s shoulders.

Steve and Jason gave a wave, Thomas hovered – his eyes scanning the room for a particular face, and Pete, who made a beeline for his best friend, suffocated her with a hug.

He pulled back and hit her with a serious and desperate expression. “Mykes… tell me you have food!” he begged.

The regent rolled her eyes. She reached into her jacket and pulled a granola bar from an inside pocket. “Here!” Pete’s eyes lit up and took the confection with a squealed ‘Thanks!’. “Take the wrapper off first!” she yelled at him as he wandered off with his prize. She rolled her eyes, but there was something comforting about his juvenile behaviour; it took her back to a simpler time, when every ping had brought the thrill of the chase and solving it had just been another puzzle.

“Claudia, dear,” HG began once the excitement from their arrival dissipated. “Do you have any further insight from the Warehouse?”

The ex-caretaker shrugged helplessly. “That stupid quake cut me off,” she complained. “I’m just plain old awesome me again.”

A confusing mixture of relief and disappointment hit the inventor. After considering the redhead for a moment, she sighed. “I am somewhat gratified to hear that, darling,” she said with a smile. “You have championed our cause well, but I think it time you had a chance to reflect and decide on which direction your course will run next.”

“I’m thinking Rodeo Clown,” Claudia replied and grinned at Pete as a muffled sound of approval came her way. “First though, what’s goin’ down in here? Where are the rugrats?”

The regents filled their friends in on everything that had transpired over the last hour or two and explained what they were searching for on the computer. Jason and Steve, since there were already too many bodies surrounding the screen and they thought that the youngsters might need a hand, made off for the manual room, and Pete, since the last thing he wanted to do was read, hovered near by, listening and offering direction.

“So, we know now which artefact was used to get the Warehouse started. We don’t really know how it created a consciousness or if that will have any effect on what we’re trying to do though,” Myka continued after the door closed on the exciting couple.

“And you want to find a way to pull CJ out of there,” Claudia gestured lazily at the scarab, “without bringing Heracles with her?”

“If we can, yes,” HG answered. “If not – if he follows her through – then we must have a plan in place to recapture him before he can strike back.”

Pete observed the three women and cleared his throat. “Um, so we’re ignoring everything Artie ever warned us about using artefacts are we?” At three glaring expressions, he held his hands up in surrender. “Just making sure that we’re all on the same page. I mean, he was always carrying that black bad around with him and pulling our artefacts like a grouchy, hairy version of Mary Poppins.” He added a little ‘cockney’ to his tone and slapped his knees like he’d suddenly felt something crawling up his trouser legs.

Helena narrowed her eyes, but turned back to the computer without comment; she didn’t want to waste time on Pete’s antics when her child was in peril. “I think Myka and I should work on recreating the portal that we used last time. We know that it works and that there are no discernible side effects.”

Myka was halfway out of her seat before her wife could finish her suggestion. “Pete and Claudia can stay and search for anything that can deal with Heracles,” she finished enthusiastically. Anything that made this task move faster was good in her books.

* * * * *

Fredrick and Catherine buried their heads in the inner workings of the mystical building. Cat had followed her Mama’s advice to the letter, allowing herself to wander around the room and pick books at random when she felt a particular pull. Freddy was reading one of her selections and now Jason another, but the younger teen paced, waiting impatiently for her Uncle Steve to return with the files she’d requested.

After reading about the agent-archives, where all of the mission reports were kept, she had a sudden urge to find Agent Bering’s. There was something there that they could use and she told Steve as much when he and Jason arrived, even before they’d had a chance to exchange pleasantries. Since time was of a premium, the ex-ATF agent saluted playfully and made off without challenge. There were times for promoting manners but this wasn’t one of them. Efficiency was the aim of the day.

Cat dived into her mother’s writing the second Steve returned and within five minutes, she came across something that excited her. After Agent Bering’s report on Lucretia Borgia’s comb, there was a personal account of the agent’s first day in the Warehouse…

_This is insane! Inanimate objects are just that, right? inanimate. They can’t possess people, or bleed, or grant wishes – or turn wishes into ferrets._

_Yesterday, I refused to believe in the possibility of endless wonder. Today, I know that my life will never be the same from here on out. I can’t go back to the ignorance of yesterday, and something tells me that the wonders I’ve seen will pale in comparison to the adventures that will lead me to them._

“There’s a wishing artefact!” Cat shouted excitedly.

Fredrick frowned and looked up from his book. _Really?_ “It can’t be that simple,” he commented, knowing automatically what his sister was thinking.

“Why not?” Cat replied as irritation crossed her features. “Why does every solution have to be complicated?”

Steve’s ears had pricked at the mention of the artefact and he instantly recalled the pet that had accompanied Myka back to Leena’s B&B after the whole Lost Folio incident. While Little Pete hadn’t been quite as revolting as he’d expected, he didn’t think that countless ferrets were going to help them to defeat Heracles. “Freddy’s not entirely wrong, Cat. It isn’t as simple as just granting a wish – some wishes are impossible.”

The younger teen rolled her eyes. “But since there’s no way of knowing whether what we need is impossible or not, it’s worth a try.”

Looking over the top of his book, Jason nodded to himself. “She has a point. At the very least, we’ll have lost nothing.”

“Except time,” Freddy added. “Which we agree, is already limited.”

“Ma told me to trust my instincts,” Catherine reminded him. “If we figure out how to do this the right way, it can work.”

Holding his sister’s gaze, the older teen searched for whatever it was that gave her such confidence. Maybe it was just her innocence and her willingness to believe in the possibility that fuelled her. Maybe it was just sheer desperation. But whatever the answer, she had faith and that alone was a powerful thing. “Ok. Let’s get back to our moms and see what they say.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think my muse is being deliberately slow because she knows I don't really want this series to come to an end. One or two more chapters to go after this one!
> 
> As always, it's your comments and continued support that really give me the motivation to struggle through. I didn't expect the end of the marathon to be this difficult, or for the finish line to keep moving, so thank you all for keeping me going!

** Chapter Eighteen **

Helena and Myka were making good progress when their youngest two came skidding into view, surprising the regents. Immediately behind the teens, Jason and Steve appeared, their expressions a mix of hope and trepidation.

There was a general feeling all round of time slipping though their fingers and a need for haste. Even so, after hearing the suggested plan for rescuing Christina, the adults had difficulty believing that the Wishing Kettle would be of any use to them.

“Sweetheart,” Myka began gently as she pushed a lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “I don’t think…”

“I know you don’t!” the teen cried with exasperation, her hands flying into the air to emphasise the point. She glanced around at all of the surprised and concerned faces looking her way and huffed. “You all expect disaster all the time and you don’t see the magic unless you can figure out how things work. Sometimes, you just have to _believe_ ,” she finished as a pleading tone crept into her voice.

With all of the bedtime stories she’d enjoyed of her parents’ adventures, Catherine built pictures in her mind of two people who saw potential in everything and anything. As she grew older, she began to realise that, though their vast knowledge and ability to adapt gave them the advantage in most situations, it was limited by what they were willing to take on faith. And age apparently had an exponentially negative effect on this openness to impossible things.

Perhaps, as experience and wisdom grew, innocence and the ability to believe in new ideas faded? Whatever the reason for it, doubt had crept into their thoughts and made them hesitate. Catherine watched the cogs turning behind her mothers’ eyes. She watched as they shared a brief, silent conversation and came to a consensus.

HG’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Myka had enough insight into her wife’s thoughts to catch the inventor’s approval. Between the two of them, Helena’s imagination had always run wilder. It had to in order to come up with such captivating stories and to create her marvellous machines from scratch. Myka’s scepticism and practicality gave their relationship balance, but there were times when her level headedness was more hinderance than help. This might be one of those times and she decided to defer judgement to flights of fancy on this occasion.

“It’s worth a try,” she relented eventually. “If Jason and Steve go and find the Kettle, you can tell us exactly what you have planned while your mother and I finish putting the portal together.”

Cat smiled to herself and shook her head. Before either man could disappear on their quest, she had to stop them. “We don’t need to fetch it,” she began knowingly. “It’ll come to us!”

Before anyone could even raise a brow, the teen closed her eyes and visualised what she needed. Within seconds, a gasp broke her concentration and she opened her eyes to find everyone staring at Steve. In the man’s left hand was the artefact. Carefully, but with an edge of panic in his movements, he lowered the kettle to a space on the floor between them.

As green eyes widened in amazement, HG beamed with pride. “Bloody brilliant! Well done, love.”

* * * * *

It took several seconds for Christina’s brain to catch up with what she’d just heard. It didn’t make any sense and yet she absolutely believed it. “You are not Heracles… or Lloyd Spenser Chapman Jr?”

Calculating blue eyes narrowed on the young woman. “The boy, Lloyd, was a means to an end, as were the others before him. Unfortunate, but necessary to carry Heracles into this moment,” the shifting figure explained. His words suggested contrition, but there was no hint of sorrow in either his expression or tone. “Heracles has, under my instruction, followed his own will. He always wished to rise to greatness. He lacked patience and the ability to think strategically. Where his failings threatened to corrupt our plans, I provided the remedy.”

The young warrior blinked as she tried to resist the magnetic pull of his voice and process these revelations. “So… where is Heracles now?”

She thought of all the other people involved in the Warehouse. Her siblings, parents, great-grandparents, and friends; her ancestors, all the way back to Heracles’ aunt – to Alexander’s sister. The interruption in thought brought a welcome clarity to her mind. The cloying sweetness of Heracles’ voice faded and allowed doubt to creep back in.

“How did the two of you become one?” she added before he could answer her previous question.

She was beginning to understand that his ability to enthral came with any speech he made about the future. By tying him up with questions about the past, she hoped to buy some time and work out how exactly she could save herself and the rest of her family.

Something like pride absorbed the conqueror for a moment. It was difficult to gage his exact expression as his face continued to shift within the solidifying shadow and Christina caught enough glimpses of confusion and gathering anger to realise that the two personalities residing in the one body were engaged in a battle of their own. Suddenly, all of the random outbursts and segues made sense.

She wondered if Heracles had been aware all along that a piece of his father lived inside him. She doubted it. Perhaps he had known that _something_ other than his own original mind had accompanied him through the ages, but if Alexander’s unnatural ability to persuade his listeners had enthralled the heir’s mind too, then Christina imagined Heracles being blissfully unaware of the familial connection. Until now.

Did that make Heracles a victim too, rather than a villain? Were they all just pawns in the conqueror’s grand game? She recalled what Heracles had said about his father being weak, ‘a coward in his final days’. Who did this thought truly belong to?

Where was the socially conscious side of Alexander who had chosen to protect humanity by creating the Warehouse to begin with? Had it truly been an act of benevolence or had he had more selfish intentions in mind? If the dark aura around the figure in front of her was any indication, then she suspected that the famous military leader had somehow been torn in two, creating this phantom that thought of nothing but its own ambition.

The dark figure, whoever he was, didn’t seem to be in any hurry now. Despite the setback of being trapped in an artefact, he was increasingly cool and collected. After appearing to consider Christina’s questions, he slid smoothly into the story of the Warehouse’s birth. While his words weren’t hypnotic like before, the tale was compelling and had the young warrior on the edge of her proverbial seat.

“Heracles’ interference in the procedure tore me from my body at the precise moment that I should have been fused with the Warehouse. Heracles was the closest physical presence available.” He turned his gaze once more on his audience and considered her. “I knew it was just a matter of time before the Warehouse grew weak. The will of the caretakers is no longer enough to protect it. The magics will spill out if we do not act.”

Alarm gripped the young woman’s features. “That is your plan? You can’t blackmail me into helping you.”

“I _could_ blackmail you, if that were my desire,” he corrected her. “But it is simply a statement of fact. Unless measures are taken to strengthen the walls containing the many artefacts in the collection, the control which my other half has over the Warehouse will collapse. Can you imagine the chaos that will unleash upon the world?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That is your prerogative,” he told her calmly. Heracles’ consciousness had stopped fighting him for now and his confidence soared. “Your opinion does not make it any less true however. If you are thinking that you might search for an alternative remedy to the situation, that is also something you could consider – but bear in mind that I have spent two millennia finding the most elegant solution to stabilise the Warehouse. _You_ do not have the luxury of time.”

Christina screwed her eyes shut and tried to put all of her thoughts into some semblance of order. She believed him. Whether instinctual or a product of spending so much time in the conqueror’s company, she truly believed that he was telling the truth about the inevitable and imminent collapse of the Warehouse’s security. At this point, it was irrelevant how much of that expediency was due to the ancient being’s interference. The threat was real and she was in a position to do something to stop it.

_Just take my hand…_ she recalled him saying. While she knew now that her compliance would reunite him with his other half – the part that lived as the mind of the Warehouse – she didn’t entirely understand what that meant for her. What would her sacrifice mean for her future? To become ‘the heart’ of the Warehouse, did she have to lose all that she’d worked for in the physical, mortal plain, or would this act simply tie her permanently to the structure?

She remembered the spark of energy that had filled her on her first visit to the Warehouse – how she’d known that she was being watched by something that cared about her survival. She remembered the river of blood from some long-ago dream – how she’d known that there was no way to save the family that she saw drowning. This creature before her was the reason she existed at all and yet now he relied on her. He could not complete his mission without her sacrifice and she could not move on with her life without his. It was the timeless meeting of opposites; light and dark, fire and ice, good and evil.

Like other children, she’d always rooted for the ‘good guy’, hoping that moral righteousness would triumph over criminal injustices. But as an adult, she grew evermore aware of the vast grey every-mans’-land between the two. It would be naïve to believe that there would always be happy endings. Naïve to imagine that there could ever be a world-power without corruption somewhere in the ranks. Naïve to think that human nature might evolve beyond the arrogant, selfish animals that they were.

But hopes and dreams were intangible and could not be washed away as easily as that. What if together they _could_ turn the tide? Force those with power to fight for everyone’s quality of life; give those in suffering a reason to smile again; provide compassion and empathy to those who appeared to have none? Wasn’t that worth a try? Hadn’t the dark side of humanity gripped the world long enough?

“What will happen to me – to my family – if I help you?” she asked at length.

“The Warehouse cannot exist without its caretaker. Others have done the job adequately, but only through my sister’s influence. It is her blood that runs through your veins and your blood that will shore up the barriers which keep the artefacts in their place. With my hand at the wheel and your protection, we will have ultimate control. So long as you give of yourself freely, no one will be able to oppose us.” He cocked his head slightly to one side, seeming to mull over her question. “As for your mortal body, I see no reason why you could not keep it for its natural lifespan. You could return to your family as and when the whim takes you,” he added as if he secretly mocked her desire to do so.

She shook her head. “I still don’t understand _how_ you intend to accomplish all of this.”

“We will return to the archives,” he informed her. “There, we will use the same knife that gave birth to the Warehouse and issue in a new era. Cynane’s blood and Heracles’ interference were the reason I became separated from myself; your blood, with your consent, will reunite us.”

“And, how do you propose we do that when we’re trapped in here?” she smirked.

Heracles’ features returned the expression, only with significantly more confidence. “You don’t suppose that your family have been idle while we conversed? I do not believe that we will have to…”

Christina thought she’d drifted into another dream when the man in front of her froze mid-sentence. She instantly connected this abrupt turn of events with his final words and suspected outside interference. Was it ironic then that his smugness continued to contort his features when it looked like she would be the only one escaping? It was only when the shadow of Alexander pulsed and began to separate from Heracles’ body that she felt any concern for what was coming. It happened in the blink of an eye; the scenery a few feet to her left shimmered and a portal appeared. The dark phantom, which gathered above Heracles’ head, immediately began to swarm towards the opening and Christina took off in its wake.

As she approached the portal on rapid wings, the voices of her family drifted through. Concerned as always for more than herself, she dug in and flew towards the exit. Swirling darkness enveloped her and sucked her up like a vacuum. When it spat her out on the other side, she found several confused and relieved faces staring back at her. They’d obviously been witness to the dark cloud of Alexander’s ruthless, disembodied half.

“Jinkies!” Claudia muttered loudly. “If we find Old Man Withers in a Halloween costume later, I’m officially retiring.”

As she wriggled out from her mothers’ embrace, Christina’s dark gaze locked in on the ex-caretaker. “You saw a shadow pass through before me?”

“Did I do that?” Catherine asked, glancing worriedly at the kettle by her feet. The triumph she’d felt at her sister’s appearance faded rapidly. Was there a hidden down-side to using the artefact after all? Had she created a new evil?

Wrapping a hand around her sister’s shoulder, Christina squeezed her slightly. She’d already deduced that one of them was the cause of Heracles’ statue-like state. Having known nothing of the entity sharing Heracles’ body, they could not have anticipated releasing something sinister into the ether. “Whatever you did, Cat, I’m grateful. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but everything he says about his plans for the Warehouse sound so appealing while he’s talking; I needed to get out of there.”

“So, what was that thing that came flying out before you?” the teen asked as she relaxed a little.

The champion’s eyes slid over the expectant faces of her family and she sighed. “You’re not going to believe this…”

She told them of how strange Heracles had seemed since meeting him in the Warehouse. How he’d appeared to drift between two personalities as the skeletal shadow which hovered around him grew darker and more solid. When she summed everything down to its surprising conclusion, she was met with silence for several seconds.

“That was Alexander?” Myka asked, needing confirmation that she’d heard correctly.

Christina nodded. “Part of him.”

“Well,” Helena began eventually. “What an unnecessarily complicated plot twist,” she commented with distaste. “I suppose we have no choice but to figure out how to prevent him from re-joining with his other half.”

“Hey!” Freddy piped up, his voice suddenly excited. “Heracles is still trapped in the artefact, so Cat’s wish worked. What if we can send the whole of the Warehouse in there? Everything would be trapped in one place and nobody could use the artefacts any more.”

Another silence settled over the group, eyebrows raising at the outlandish thought.

“If we could manage it, that would be a damn sight better than Christina acting as the sacrificial lamb,” HG shared her thoughts. Murmurs of agreement spread through the group. “Where would we start though?” She turned to her wife. “How would we word a wish like that? We had no way of knowing that a part of Alexander was living inside of Heracles. Undoubtedly, there are many such unknows in the Warehouse.”

“We might end up unleashing something far more terrible,” Myka concluded. “We might even be sucked in with it.”

“So, we’re not even going to try it?” Freddy wondered, feeling a little disheartened that his idea was dismissed so readily.

Cat sidled up to her brother, showing her support. “Of course, we are. It could work. They just want us to be smart about it.”

The regents shared a look. Neither of them had committed themselves to the idea, but after witnessing Cat’s successful plan, they were almost willing to try using the Wishing Kettle again.

Christina listened intently but kept her opinions to herself. She wanted to believe that there was a possibility of them pulling off such a crazy plan without her having to give a part of herself to Alexander’s ambition, but deep down, she knew that any attempt would be fruitless. She owed her existence to the Warehouse – it had seen a need for a champion who would make difficult choices when the time came. For the longest time, she hadn’t truly understood what that meant, but with the latest revelation about Alexander, she was beginning to see her place in the flow of events.

As per her habit, she wanted to keep this growing realisation to herself, but she knew that it wouldn’t be fair to her family to hide her intentions any more. Once the last piece fell into place, she would tell them.

At Steve’s suggestion, they deactivated the portal, leaving it ready to use again if needed, and returned to the main office. There was no sign of the shadow that hung literally and figuratively over their lives, but all felt the tickle of hairs rising on the backs of their necks as they moved through the Warehouse. Pete tried the door to the umbilicus as soon as they arrived; when it didn’t open, resisting even his firmest pull, no one felt particularly surprised.

“So, we’re trapped too,” the ex-agent grumbled. “Any chance the new agents have a fully-stocked fridge or secret stash of snacks lying around anywhere?”

The inventor’s gaze fixed on Pete for several seconds while she worked on pushing back her exasperation. “While normally I would despair at your gluttony, you have a good point this time. We could be here for a long time yet, we brought no food with us and most of us have not eaten since breakfast.”

Knowing that splitting up wasn’t the best idea but all beginning to feel the pangs of hunger, they all considered the dilemma in silence for a moment. There weren’t too many rooms heading from the office though and no one thought it likely that food stores, if there were any, would be located down on the Warehouse floor. The only possible exception would have been The Pete Cave, but Claudia assured them that it had long since been decommissioned.

Catherine immediately volunteered to go with her Uncle Pete to sniff out anything edible, but Myka and Helena were uncomfortable with the idea of losing sight of any of their children – especially since Alexander seemed so intent on using them for his own murky purposes – so they requested the teen’s help with working on the wish instead.

“You’re the only one amongst us who has managed to make the kettle work – without ending up with a pet ferret,” Myka pointed out reasonably.

“I’d like a ferret,” Catherine declared as she flopped back into her seat.

Christina snorted. “Mum would love that.”

Helena’s eyes narrowed as she glared playfully at her eldest. “I would gladly take a ferret home if it meant finally getting rid of Heracles or this shadow of Alexander.” She turned to look at her youngest with a more serious expression then. “I don’t think you should begin with the idea that you might get a new pet though, love,” she suggested lightly. “It might bias the results.”

“I’m not sure that Spyder would be best pleased with a ferret in his house, even if Mum could tolerate it,” Freddy commented, his words successfully taking some of the dreamy spark out of Cat’s expression.

Once the talk about food and ferrets faded, an intense brain-storming session began. They went around in circles, trying to work out all the kinks for using the fickle artefact. Even after the trio of foragers returned with a bounty of dried fruit and other non-perishables, they were no closer to a satisfying solution.

It was Fredrick who sighed first in defeat – a piece of jerky sitting limply in his hand like a visual representation of his wounded pride. “It’s not going to work, is it?”

Myka reached out to squeeze his arm. “It was a good idea, sweetheart. Worth considering at least.”

“Fat lot of good that does us now. How much time has this wasted?” he groused and shoved the rest of his jerky in his mouth.

“I still think it could work, but perhaps the Wishing Kettle is too unpredictable,” Christina thought aloud. She felt many gazes on her but it was Claudia’s she fixed on. “I think it’s worth asking Heracles.”

It was a gut feeling that their nemesis had the means to help where their current efforts were lacking. At the multiple expressions of incredulity, it wasn’t going to be a popular idea though.

“Are you insane?” was the first thought out of her boyfriend’s mouth. Several raised eyebrows seemed to share the sentiment. “He’s spent the last two thousand years planning to take control of the Warehouse and you want to ask for his help?”

“I can’t help but think we’re heading off the reservation here, CJ,” Claudia agreed reluctantly with the young man.

Myka’s instinct was scepticism too, but there was another feeling deep inside that made her believe it could work. On top of that, a spark of something like excitement flowed from her wife; Helena shared that unexplainable pull towards the impossible. As her eyes locked with Freddy’s and then Cat’s, she began to realise that it was just her family who knew that Christina was on the right track. _Strange,_ she thought and immediately began to dissect the idea. _It must have something to do with their shared ancestry, and I’m feeling it through Helena._

“He’s been manipulated by his father too,” Christina continued, “and knows more about the Warehouse’s history than any of us. He also has intimate knowledge of Alexander’s plans.”

The squad leader shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t like it,” he mumbled. It was bad enough that he couldn’t protect her as much as he wanted to, did she have to keep actively looking for danger? He sighed inwardly. It was still hard to reconcile his worry with the knowledge of how Christina’s fiery independence was part of what drew him to her.

“We need another way to contain him,” HG commented, showing her support without acknowledging Thomas’ opposition. “Do we consult with him here, in the office, or use the portal to move to and from Limbo?”

“Bringing him out of Limbo might also attract Alexander’s attention,” Freddy pointed out.

Myka nodded. “That’s something to remember if we need to do that later, but I think we should keep Heracles where he is for now. The threat of entrapment might be enough to encourage him to work with us. We’ll have people on the outside, but as far as we know, he’s all out of allies now.”

With a tentative plan worked out and no better options to turn to, all ten of them wandered back down to the portal’s set-up and took up their agreed positions. Fredrick and Catherine were in charge of the Farnsworth, which they were hoping would work as well through dimensions as it did over distance and through matter. Myka, Pete, Christina and Claudia stood where the entrance would appear, their Farnsworth also held ready. Thomas, Jason and Steve were ready with their teslas nearby, which left HG hovering over the controls.

A frown sat over her features as she regretted the fact that she had to stay to oversee the equipment. She would never get used to seeing Myka running off into danger without her. Her mind took her back to a fairground as the sound of her lover’s feet hitting asphalt as she faded into the distance. At least, this time, she had some control over the mission and wouldn’t just be waiting to hear the outcome.

There was no knowing whether Alexander’s shadow was lurking in the near vicinity, or whether the teslas would work to repel him even if he was to attack them. There was also no way of knowing if Heracles was still immobile inside his prison or if he was lying in wait for the portal to open so he could make his escape. Each and every one of the regents, ex-agents, ex-caretaker, squad leader and young ones had to be prepared for the unexpected and all were tense as Myka gave the signal and Helena powered up her machinery.

Regent Bering’s left hand relaxed around the handle of her Warehouse-issued weapon as she readied herself to use it. A familiar clarity claimed her thoughts – years of training and experience taking control of her mind and body. In her right hand, she felt the comforting presence of the gift from her wife – the one that had expelled the last breath from Kipling and rid them of that threat. She and Helena had barely needed a glance between them to agree that lethal force was acceptable if it looked like Heracles was going to further threaten their family.

The swirling vortex opened in front of the intrepid four and pulled them forwards. As the only one who had never ventured into Limbo before, Claudia oohed quietly at the sensation of passing between dimensions, but fixed an expression of disappointment on her face once they materialised on the other side.

“This is it?” she said and scanned the unimpressive scenery with a frown. “This is Dullsville. I thought it was supposed to be all fancy and enticing. I expected to be wallowing in the lap of luxury.”

Pete and Myka both wore expressions of confusion too since their brief visits had met with lush greens and crystal skies, and beside them, Christina realised that she had left the changes out of her earlier explanation.

“It was like this earlier,” she confessed. “I assume because you rescued all of its captives and deprived it of its source of power.” She shrugged while her companions nodded. “Heracles should still be close by though,” she added and turned every which way to search for the ancient figure.

It wasn’t that there was nothing to gaze upon in Limbo; a barren land would have been easy enough to search; there were varying shades of greyish-brown, in clay-like lumps that ranged from what looked like gravel, to towering blobs. As if the artefact was just lying in wait for a battery and a blue print to give it life.

Instinctively, Pete and Myka rotated so they were almost back to back, transporting them momentarily to dozens of past missions. There were places that their enemy could hide if he wanted to and since they had not happened upon his frozen form, it was obvious to all of them that the effects of the Wishing Kettle had worn off. Claudia updated their friends on the outside and then cautiously, the four of them began to move off in search of their quarry.

They didn’t need to wander far before the image of Heracles appeared before them, his figure standing, shoulders slumped and gazing out over a patch of ground which looked as if it had once held water. He barely moved as they approached, only his head turning at the sound of their footsteps and a scowl replacing the faraway expression previously there.

“So, you return to mock me? Or is this perhaps my death sentence?” he asked acerbically.

Since he’d fixed his gaze on her, Christina stepped forwards, just a foot in front of her mother, and tried to appear non-threatening. “Neither. We came to negotiate a truce, and to ask for your help.” Ice-blue eyes, that had once appeared cold to her, now seemed to burn. She had no idea what the source of his ire was, but hazarded a guess that it had to do with his father. If she was right, that could only be to their advantage.

Intrigue gradually composed Heracles’ features and he turned fully to face the four. “How do you propose I might help you?”

Myka stepped up next to her daughter and placed a hand on the young warrior’s forearm. She didn’t trust the glint of cunning in the man’s eyes and thought it best not to give away too much before knowing his motivation better. “You spent two thousand years searching for a way to take control of the Warehouse. Is that still your goal?” she asked.

Heracles didn’t consider the question for long, but his eyes did narrow. “I cannot say that I’m pleased with how events have unfolded. I do not know how to reconcile two millennia of slavery to my father’s will with my own desires.” His gaze drifted as if looking inward at memories. “The horrors I have seen… have inflicted… yet I cannot entirely regret my actions when they were not wholly my own.” The heat blazed from his eyes as they fell once more on Christina. “Can you say the same?”

Christina felt her mother stiffen at the verbal jab and experienced a leaping in her stomach as if she’d driven over a small hill at speed. The image of Cassandra’s crumpled body flashed behind her eyes and she swallowed a sudden lump. She placed a soothing hand on her mother’s arm before the regent could make up her mind to say something. Christina’s mind was settled with the fact that the commander had given her little choice in the events leading up to her death, and while she regretted the results of that chase, the fall had not been entirely her fault. It was obvious though that Heracles’ affection for his second in command went much deeper than she’d previously realised. Whether or not she was responsible for his friend’s death, he clearly held a grudge.

“You didn’t answer the question,” she noted and waited stoically for him to respond.

“And now neither have you,” he countered.

Christina’s raised eyebrow hovered for several seconds before she shrugged. “My actions were my own. But it was your intention to lead me there and Cassandra’s intention to provoke a fight out of me. You lured me there. Did you expect me to come quietly?” They were at an impasse and she knew that they could talk in circles for hours without agreeing on who held more blame. She would not waste more time on the subject.  “Your turn.”

After a pause, Heracles relented. “My primary goal now is to be rid of my father once and for all.”

“And your secondary goal?” Claudia pushed.

Ice-blue passed over the group. “First things first,” he dodged, his stance making it clear that he wasn’t prepared to share more with them without insurance.

None of the Warehouse 13 team liked the untenable situation they were in, but they each realised that there was little choice in the matter when they were up against the wire. Heracles’ casual threat to Christina that the Warehouse was weakening sat heavily on their minds and they knew that they had no more time to come up with a better plan.

First though, they needed to know that the heir actually had the resources to help deal with Alexander…

Myka’s patience had run out; the prickling of uncertainty beneath her skin was beginning to drive her mad. “Before we make any concessions in your favour, are you actually able and willing to help us?”

“Buddy, you’d better hope you have an ace up your sleeve,” Pete interjected, “’cause we’d be more than happy to leave you in here to rot.”

The heir half smiled in his self-important way before dismissing the ex-agent’s comment. “Oh, I know exactly what you need. The real question is, are you willing to give me what I need?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will he help, or am I just opening another can of worms?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. And it's a monster ;-D  
> Enjoy!

** Chapter Nineteen **

Helena wore a permanent frown from the moment Heracles stepped out of the portal beside her daughter, to now, where her family were gathered on the Warehouse floor - preparing for their last-ditch attempt to bring their battle to an end.

Despite the certainty she felt that the heir could help them, she shared her wife’s caution towards his motives and already worried about the fresh dangers they might face after dealing with Alexander. They were so close to having their freedom from the inherited responsibilities hanging over their heads that she could taste it. How tragic would it be if they won this battle only to lose the war, and possibly their lives?

Myka’s hand slid into hers and she closed her fingers around the warm digits. As if summoned by the tactile contact, several images assaulted her brain: Agent Bering’s keen gaze scrutinising the faces of tourists as she searched for a fugitive HG Wells. Fire and desire behind forest green, sometimes mired in confusion or caution, sometimes fleeting, but always present in those precious few seconds when their eyes met. Countless, blissful mornings where she woke beside her soul mate and felt the fluttering of her heart as she became conscious of the love between them.

When the images of her wife faded, Helena found her thoughts replaced by the faces of numerous others. Some she knew – her father and grandmother; an old photograph of a great-grandfather she’d never met – and then rapidly more, until their likenesses blurred together in one long line… a bloodline. Finally, the flashing of lives slowed to a halt, ending with a face she didn’t recognise but immediately knew.

Cynane.

The montage could not have lasted more than a few seconds – when she focussed back on the people around her, no one appeared to have noticed her distraction – but the impact on her mind was significant. This was the purpose they’d been questioning for so long – the close bonds with her spouse and their children; the supernatural connections that they’d wondered about so many times – what was the significance to it all? Why were _they_ chosen for this task and why did they need to be able to read each other so easily? HG carried her ancestor’s strength and so too did her children. The rings, that felt newly warm on her finger, were Myka’s window into that strength – the American’s way of adding to it.

As her vision cleared, her dark gaze narrowed on the heir. She knew now what needed to be done.

With the regents’ cooperation, they’d all entered the archives and Heracles had taken them to the knife he sought. Used by Alexander to lock himself into Warehouse 1, to keep away unwanted visitors and would-be thieves, and which ultimately had brought all of them to their present situation, it was the key to ending his reign.

Pete tried not to shiver outwardly as his vibes played havoc with his nerves. He could feel the simmering tension heating up, but couldn’t decide whether it was a good thing or not. The uncertainty was making him twitchy and more than once he’d had to contend with one of his friends pinching him when his fidgeting grew out of hand.

“So, how’s this supposed to work again?” he asked, not for the first time.

While Heracles gazed with distain at the aging agent, Pete’s companions each cracked a smile and relaxed slightly. There was just something about Agent Lattimer’s bumbling that made everything seem a little less dire. He was much smarter than people gave him credit for. His clowning a subconscious effort on his part to deceive perhaps? Whatever the reason, his ability to command mirth gave all of his companions the chance to clear their thoughts of any dark omens and focus once more on the task at hand.

Claudia snickered and looked sideways at her friend. She took pity on him – it was clear that something was bothering him. “Would you like a puppet-show, Pete?” Cat’s giggle tugged her smile further. “The knife still has Alexander’s blood on it. Cynane’s descendants can awaken the artefact. It will pull both halves of Alexander together.”

Pete’s fuzzy thoughts cleared gradually at the retelling. “Right,” he muttered. “Then the boy-wonder here will trap him in amber,” he recalled, his gaze passing dismissively over Heracles. He suddenly realised why he felt so twitchy; his vibes wanted him to be ready when the heir inevitably made his own grab for power.

Christina coughed, redirecting everyone’s attention back to the task at hand. “Yes, and the sooner we get to it, the better.” Her sharp eyes had taken in the same feeling of anticipation as the rest of her family. She was anxious to get the show on the road, but she was also concerned about not making Heracles aware of their burgeoning understanding.

Cool blue homed in on the young warrior, something like respect temporarily masking the lingering hatred in his eyes. “That would be advisable. Who knows what schemes my father’s darker half is steeping as we tarry?”

He didn’t wait for further instruction or permission as he lifted the knife and reached for Christina’s arm. They’d already drawn the eye of Horus on her inner left forearm and he wasted no more time, spared no thought for her parents, siblings, significant other or friends as he pressed the tip of the blade against her skin and drew blood. He paused at her hiss of pain and looked up to gage her response. It was more of a reflexive action than a conscious one but as he looked into the depths of her soul, he saw the reflection of someone he hadn’t seen in a very long time and for a brief moment, worry consumed his thoughts.

Christina was too occupied by the pain in her arm to notice the curious expression on her enemy’s face. By the time she finished biting back her groans, he’d shaken off his turmoil and began cutting in earnest. The young champion felt the slice of the knife like a long-forgotten memory.

Myka felt her wife’s grip like a vice as they watched their daughter’s blood pool on the surface of her skin and flow into a tiny stream that dripped onto the concrete beneath their feet. She felt the ache in her fingers and squeezed back. The pain was insignificant compared to watching someone hurt her child, but she and Helena had to hold back their instincts to jump to Christina’s rescue.

Heracles took no notice of the family and friends who watched his progress with fire in their eyes. He still could not quite believe that they’d allowed him to take proceedings into his own hands. Their trusting natures – their naivete – would cost them dearly. His genuflecting underlings had brought him so far, but he had no use for them now. Cassandra was the only one amongst them who he would truly miss, and no power, not even in the Warehouse, would be able to bring her back the way that she was. While under the control of his father’s shadow, he’d not been allowed thoughts such as love and friendship, but with reflection, he realised that the slave-turned-protector was the closest thing he’d had to family since he was a child. She could have been so much more to him had they been afforded the prospect.

Though he wasn’t about to throw away his chance to fulfil several lifetimes’ worth of ambition on a whim, he wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avenge Cassandra if it arose. Since the fools were making his task so easy for him, the likelihood of that happening was better than expected.

At Heracles’ side, while he was making silent plans, Christina closed her eyes and saw the walls of the Warehouse glowing all around her. Ancient architecture radiant with the power of her ancestor’s sacrifice – now _her_ sacrifice. As she opened them again, the same shimmering of light surrounded her family and friends.

“It’s working,” she whispered.

“So it would seem,” Heracles replied, his voice full of satisfaction and anticipation.

HG pulled her eldest closer by the loose fabric of her sleeve and pressed the gauze in her hand against the bloodied arm. She felt a dulled hatred burn brighter at the sight but focussed her energies diligently on bandaging the wound. “How long will it take to bind Alexander do you think?” she asked through gritted teeth.

A noise like the howling of the wind shook the shelves around them and everyone glanced around to figure out where it was coming from.

Heracles smirked. “No time at all.”

* * * * *

In the heart of the Warehouse stirred the sentient entity, which had watched over the inventory since the building’s conception. It no longer remembered the life of a human – even a human who’d spent his entire mortal existence conquering the known world. It knew its purpose – to ensure the security of the artefacts, and to prevent the mortals of the world from destroying themselves.

For many centuries, it had felt the threat that now occupied its domain. This eventuality was expected and, with the caretaker, it had laid the path for its salvation. They had nudged events along according to how the outside threat had progressed and now it had to let go. It had to trust that fate would see things play out in the right way.

It felt its control wane and obeyed the pull of a summons from elsewhere in the Warehouse. The building shook as the bond between them broke and the entity drifted through the walls, heading for the part it had been missing for a very long time.

* * * * *

Clouds of dirt from the Warehouse floor flew around the gathered group as the howling wind grew stronger and darkness descended. Freddy felt his younger sister’s hand in his and pulled her closer. A collective breath held between the eleven while the air around them became impenetrable to the eye.

Christina hissed as the cuts on her arm burned and above their heads the skeletal shadow swirled. She could feel Alexander’s other half approaching, making its way through the Warehouse to their spot, just as Heracles had said. He’d been fairly quiet on the details, so she didn’t know exactly how this was going to work out, but he stood ready with the amber that would supposedly trap the conqueror once his two halves were reunited.

“This had better work,” HG mumbled under her breath as she readied herself to leap into action. She was banking on Heracles underestimating them and any outward appearance of scepticism could only aid that.

The inventor, along with her family, watched in awe as their surroundings morphed into a giant mass of light streams within the dark cloud. Some ancient instinct told the Wells-Bering family that they had witnessed this phenomenon once before in reverse, and their fascination continued as a battle of wills ensued before their very eyes.

Heracles’ gaze grew progressively hungry as he watched almost black and almost white draw together into an increasingly solid grey form. He too recalled the moment that Alexander had given himself to the Warehouse, banishing all but Cynane on that fateful day. His father’s image came together before him and he grinned with long-suppressed malevolence when an inhuman scream tore from the memory of the conqueror and he knew that he’d won at last.

Whatever his ambitions had once been, and however altruistic, two thousand years had twisted his mind and all that remained was a thirst for power that overwhelmed his thoughts. “You see, father? You underestimated me! We may have made this journey together – you may have led me here – but I have prevailed… and you? I hope you enjoy oblivion!”

His audience tried not to overreact to the scene in front of them. They didn’t want to turn either Heracles or Alexander’s attention upon them too soon, but most amongst them couldn’t suppress a frown or a raised eyebrow at the maniacal behaviour exploding from the heir. If they’d had any doubts before about his intentions and state of mind, there were none now. So many years of ambitious pursuit had apparently killed most of whatever sanity he had left.

Another angry screech filled the air, deafening the spectators. Feeling a little redundant, they covered their ears and waited to see what Heracles was going to do next.

Despite the heir’s outburst, the gathering form of Alexander seemed to find equilibrium and calmed enough to banish, however temporarily, the darkness within. Reunifying the two halves of the great hero had been the answer to neutralising that uncontrollable lust it had for power. Without the king’s conscience and strength of will, it had dominated Heracles and had cultivated the influence to draw countless fanatics to its cause.

Alexander had unintentionally created a monster when he merged with the Warehouse. Now that his darker attributes were once again part of him, he gained awareness of his surroundings and of the entity he’d become within the mystical building.

Appreciating his son’s anger-infused words, he drew a breath that he didn’t need and faced the young man for the first time in two millennia. “Heracles, your ire is regrettable but understandable,” he began. Something like pity rose into his eyes. “It was my intention to spare you from the pitfalls of a life fuelled by unquenchable desire. I failed.” His gaze turned briefly on the young ones who watched with curiosity and apprehension. “I can only hope now that I have done enough to bring you peace after I am gone.”

Heracles sneered. His hands clenched by his side rhythmically, one still holding onto the ritual knife as indecision blazed from ice-blue. “Your words sound to strangers as if you were ‘ever _here_. My father had far too many interests to care about the boy who would not inherit his throne. Your shadow is all I have ever known!”

Before anyone could even consider intervening, a flash of metal caught the gazes of onlookers and a low groan rose from the re-formed conqueror. Heracles’ body had moved with the speed of a person possessed and now his hand rested against his father’s chest, the artefact buried up to the hilt in Alexander’s ribcage.

* * * * *

Far from the conflict raging inside the Warehouse – shores and fathoms between them – Jane Lattimer gasped from her reclined chair and reached for the bracelet on her arm. Having long covered the skin of her wrist, the Ramati Shackle was her personal window into the soul of the Warehouse and the last few years had not given her comfort when she looked upon it. The day she had agreed to wear it, the artefact had reassured her of the building’s strength and power, but as time ticked by, it grew as weak as she, bringing to the ageing human the worry that it was her ailing body that was the cause.

Artie and Vanessa struggled from their own senior seats to help their friend; each having expected such a reaction if the Warehouse should fall. Frustration had consumed the ex-director often since the attack on the Wells-Bering house – he missed the days when he had the strength and ability to jump into the fray with his colleagues and friends – but he knew that he was a liability now and consented unhappily to keep an eye on the elderly regent who carried the burden of feeling when the Warehouse eventually fell.

The now retired doctor fell back on practiced habits as she checked the regent’s pulse and ordered her husband to fetch various medical paraphernalia from her bag. “Jane, you’re going to be ok,” she reassured her friend in her best bed-side manner. “This is not unexpected, remember? We’re going to breathe through it, ok? The Warehouse knew that you could handle this when you were chosen.”

Regent Lattimer nodded and tried to hold onto that thought. They all knew that the Warehouse didn’t always look after its human helpers so well. Many agents, directors and regents had succumbed to artefacts that were ‘gifted’ to them, but negativity was never going to be the answer to their problems, so wishful thinking became their only resort.

Whatever the outcome, the time it took for the shackle to break apart and fall, inactive, to the floor of Mr and Mrs Nielsen’s living room was blessedly short, and as Dr Calder continued to fuss over her exhausted patient, the trio could not help but wonder what was happening to their extended family half way across the world.

* * * * *

Because Heracles had not been clear on the details of Alexander’s imprisonment (he had failed to mention needing to stab his father), a gasp travelled around at the sight of the heir’s reaction and the hilt protruding from the king’s torso. Pete and Steve jumped forward in time with Claudia, all three too late to help and their eyes bulging in surprise as a bright, orange light grew from the wound. The body mutated once more into intangible swirls and disappeared into the shard of amber that sat in Heracles’ one hand while, in the absence of a victim, a bloodied blade now dangled from the fingers of the other.

Gone was the stoic patience with which Heracles had previously conducted his interactions. Without the dark shadow to temper his impulses, his fury had full rein. Thus, the moment Alexander vanished, forever trapped, he turned on the Warehouse family close by.

“One step closer,” he said and lifted the knife. It hovered a mere fraction of a second over his extended arm before a blur passed his gaze and a hand knocked it from his grip. Rage reclaimed his features and, for the next several minutes, chaos ensued as he reached into himself and tapped the power he possessed to claim control of the inventory.

The regents and their children seemed to read one another’s thoughts as they battled for dominance over the murderous prince. Claudia and the others tried to help where they could, kicking away artefacts that, once conjured by Heracles, were knocked free of the heir’s hands before he could do any damage with them.

It was Fredrick who had watched fingers loosen around the knife and followed its progress through the air. His gaze remained on the weapon and, eventually seeing a window of opportunity, he scooped it into his own hands and signalled to the others that he had what they needed. Grabbing his younger sister by the sleeve, he pulled her to the fringe of the fight and together they fled in the direction of the office.

The certainty in their movements drew a very odd feeling from within. They knew that they needed to delay Heracles long enough for them to escape from the Warehouse – they couldn’t allow him to take control while they were trapped inside – but where those ideas came from, they didn’t entirely know.

Behind the two teens, their comrades tried with increasing desperation to find a way to stop Heracles so they could join the teens in their flight to safety. Enraged, he used his powers to pull out of thin air one artefact after another. No one really knew where this ability had come from – why he was able to access the inventory at will simply because he’d gained entry to the Warehouse – but there was hardly time to figure out this puzzle with random things like hailstorms and murderous DIY tools flying at them.

Myka ducked a fire hydrant and pushed Christina out of the path of a croquet ball, which missed her daughter’s head by a millimetre and soared over the shelf behind them with a whistle of glee, as if it sensed the vastness of the space around it and spied an easy getaway. She had no time to breathe her relief before another projectile filled her vision and beefy arms grabbed her. She hit the deck with Pete hovering protectively over her.

“Been a while since we’ve been in this position!” he observed with a tired grin.

Regent Bering snorted, rolled quickly to her feel and pulled her best friend up with her. “Last time, I got knocked up!”

Thomas glanced at the pair as if they’d lost their minds; it was hardly a good time to joke. Christina cracked a smile though. “I don’t need any more siblings, thanks!” she called, even as she continued her vigilant avoidance of missiles.

“How about grandchildren?” HG followed, throwing in her two cents. She somehow managed to volley an oncoming artefact in the shape of a lightbulb while throwing a sardonic look at her eldest.

Energised by the banter, Christina barked a laugh. “I don’t even have kids yet!”

“Should we maybe focus on how we’re going to get out of here?” Thomas yelled, incredulously.

He’d been afforded his first real glimpse at how the older Warehouse crew worked as a team and he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Though he’d trained with them for years and accompanied his adopted family through perilous times, it all paled in comparison to the majesty of movement that now whipped before his eyes. Notwithstanding their playful interlude, their movements didn’t falter and when a familiar jawbone fell into the inventor’s peripheral vision, she snatched it up and pointed it at the heir without hesitation. The force of the artefact’s power gripped HG’s arm as she felt her target trying to resist. He pushed back with his will, but in the end, her determination won out and he crumbled beneath a primal energy even more potent than his own lust for power.

Myka grabbed the bone and threw it out of reach as they saw their window at last and ran. “That won’t hold him for long!” she cried over the sound of pounding feet on concrete.

“Just as long as we make it to the umbilicus!” Helena replied from the rear of the party, where she’d deliberately positioned herself.

Their frantic race through the Warehouse seemed to drag and speed along with equal measure. Christina and Thomas at the head of the procession demonstrated the gift of youth as they reached staggered stairs and mounted them with ease, leaving their elders to force aged limbs – as fast as they could – over every step.

Bursting into the office, gasps of relief met them and two teens threw themselves at the regents. Amidst mass panting and Pete’s laboured wheezing, Helena and Myka embraced their children and made the most of the few seconds they had to enjoy what might be the last moments with their family. Aware of how perilous the next few minutes would be when Heracles caught up to them, the couple shared a fervent hope that this wasn’t the end of their story before they ordered their friends and colleagues to start ushering the teens into the umbilicus.

Helena gripped in her hand the knife that her son had pressed on her when they entered the office. She knew that Myka still had the static bag with the scarab in it. They needed to time this right, but having their children in close proximity to Heracles when he arrived? That was beyond question.

The door to their escape opened without protest now, whatever force blocking it before having been vanquished. Jason, Steve, Claudia, Pete and Thomas barely hesitated as they moved to the exit, each one of them assuming that the Wells-Bering family would follow suit, but when the youngsters hesitated and the regents didn’t move at all, they quickly realised that they were missing some important parts of this plan.

Claudia’s whistle pierced the air and dragged the family’s attention towards her. “This isn’t the time for games people. Haul ass!”

Myka attempted to smile at her friend. “Claude…” she began but hardly needed to say more as her expression told a story of its own.

Before the redhead could say anything, Pete placed a hand on the young woman’s arm and levelled a knowing look at his best friend. “Mykes, tell me you know what you’re doing,” he simply asked.

A scream not unlike the one which had heralded the coming Alexander’s dark half broke through the uncertainty of the moment and both regents’ expression hardened.

“We know what we’re doing, now go!” HG yelled at Pete and the others.

Myka exchanged a significant look with the man who’d been like a brother to her for so long. She didn’t need words to answer his question. He knew the combination of apology and determination in her eyes and after only a brief pause, he nodded and began to push the others back towards the door. Ignoring Cat’s ill-repressed sobbing and the over-bright reassurances of their friends, Myka and Helena faced the only two people remaining and sighed in frustration.

“Love, you’ve done your part, now please, take Thomas and leave,” HG beseeched her eldest.

The young man appeared to deliberate between his need to get the woman he loved to safety and the need to be heroic and stay to help the regents with whatever hairbrained scheme they’d concocted. Seeing Christina’s resolute expression though, he stood firmer and gazed back at the regents calmly. “This is her battle too.” Despite his outward appearance of confidence, his stomach churned with uncertainty and he hoped almost desperately that his girlfriend and her crazy parents knew what they were doing.

The champion smiled before she could hide it. “What he said.”

“Foolish,” HG muttered as the door to the Warehouse floor crashed open and admitted the one they’d been waiting for. “It’s a moot point now.”

Heracles stormed into the room, the static left by his handling of many artefacts clinging to and dancing in tiny bolts from his clothes while thunder darkened his face. His eyes fell on the open door to the umbilicus and, with a flick of his hand, it slammed shut. He smirked at the collective surprise on their faces and stalked further into the room. “Yes, with my father gone and the Warehouse in need of a new master, I am powerful beyond your comprehension,” he boasted. Now that he had a captive audience, he searched for the thing that would seal his destiny. Ice-blue scrutinised the four remaining pretenders until he noticed a subtle twitch from the older one. “The knife,” he demanded, his hand outstretched as he advanced on her.

Myka jumped in front of her wife instinctively. It wasn’t part of their plan – they wanted Heracles to insist on them giving him the ritual knife – but seeing this menace bearing down on the woman she loved was too much, she just had to step in. Hearing HG’s hissed ‘ _What are you doing?’_ she wanted to kick herself, but by the smug expression on Heracles’ face, she knew she could use her blunder to their advantage.

“Let us leave, and you can have your stupid knife. We’ve done nothing to you that wasn’t provoked,” she begged convincingly.

“You wish to live to fight another day?” the heir asked and he paused, his head cocked as if to consider what their angle was.

“Ma, no! We can win this!”

“Myka, don’t give in to him!”

Christina and HG immediately caught on to Myka’s change of direction and added their protests to the ploy. Though there’d been no time to discuss plans or share their vision with the rest of their team, pieces were already in place and only a final few were needed to see this historical reject forever out of their lives. It had begun while they were following Heracles from Limbo. While shutting down the portal, hopefully for the last time, Myka had shoved the scarab back into its static bag and pocketed it while Catherine lingered at the back of their procession and subtly conjured the Wishing Kettle back into her hands…

_‘Please work, please work,’ the teen whispered in the back of her mind as images of what she should wish for flashed like a play-list across her inner eye. There was no reason to think that what she needed couldn’t be achieved. Her faith had been enough before, but as some outside force took more and more liberties with her thoughts, and the link with her parents and sibling became stronger, she began to wonder where all of this help was coming from._

_Regardless, there was no contingency in place for when they’d dealt with Alexander and there was no question in her family’s collective consciousness that Heracles would quickly become a problem once his father was out of the way, so at this point, any idea that seemed half way decent was something that they had to try._

_She made her wish, wording it in her mind exactly as she saw it in her vision. Once the heat from the kettle warmed her hands and then died away, she secreted the artefact under a nearby shelf and re-joined the team before their foe could take note of the distance that had grown between them._

Taking the objections at face value, Heracles rolled his head to the other side and nodded slowly. His gaze lingered on Christina and Thomas for the briefest moment, but the decision eventually came with an exaggeratedly magnanimous air, “Very well. If you can crawl your way out of the earth before my bond with the Warehouse is complete, you may keep your miserable lives. Now, give it to me.”

Refusing to move from where she acted as Helena’s shield, Myka reached back for her wife’s hand and felt the cold smoothness of metal as the knife was placed in her grasp. Stepping back slightly, she corralled the last of her family towards the exit as her arm extended forwards. “We have your word?” she prodded as her muscles coiled in preparation for whatever happened next.

Heracles observed their skittishness with barely concealed delight. “If you can outrun me, I will not pursue you. So long as you never again interfere with Warehouse business,” he shrugged as he added the last bit. Cool eyes once again drifted over their faces to land on Christina’s. “I suggest you run fast. Any bridges that might have been drawn between us were dashed on the rocks not so long ago.”

Christina heard the thinly veiled threat and the reference to Cassandra’s death in his tone. Her face flushed but she didn’t look away from the daggers in those hate filled orbs. She owned her mistakes, but she wouldn’t allow Heracles to burden her with responsibilities that were not hers. She would not take the guilt that he could not accept for himself, or the hatred for a father that had not been quenched by killing him.

The moment Myka’s empty hand closed on thin air, she turned for the escape tunnel. “Go,” she told the others in a tone that was much steadier than it should have been.

Though the tunnel boasted no extra branches for them to lose their way, there were enough twists and turns to hinder the family’s progress as they raced for the surface. As the only one amongst them who’d entered the Warehouse the conventional way, Thomas ended up at the front and called out directions like ‘sharp right’ or ‘step up’ when he thought them necessary.

They’d made good progress before the hairs on the backs of their necks suddenly stood at attention and they felt the change in the air. Knowing that Heracles had his wish at last – was in full command of the Warehouse and all of its resources – a spurt of adrenaline kicked their legs into a higher gear and their pace increased. It wasn’t a speed that they could maintain for long though and when the ground started to shake beneath them, the weariness in their limbs hit them full force, knocking them down.

“We’re nearly there!” Thomas cried as he struggled to his feet and reached for Christina. “That boulder leads to the mouth of the cave,” he added and pointed to where they could all see a chink of light.

If they had the time or presence of thought to listen carefully, they would have heard the sounds of indignant shouts from above, but all that registered in their heads at that moment was the cracking of the rocks surrounding them. Myka and Helena leant on each other and forced themselves after the young couple, their hearts hammering in perfect synchronicity as they lumbered the last few feet to the exit.

It was HG’s pained yelp and then Myka’s panicked cry that brought them to a halt for the second time. Thomas tried in vain to push his girlfriend towards safety before he rushed back to the fallen regent and levered his shoulder against her left side. Rocks the size of large fists were beginning to pummel the ground in earnest now and under their feet, the still trembling ground erupted, jagged edges rising – searching for tender flesh, and cracks in the earth emitting puffs of smoke that burned their lungs.

Their renewed efforts betrayed the intense need they felt not to be buried alive. Though Helena knew that her disorientation from the blow to her head was slowing them down, she didn’t attempt to plead with Myka or Thomas to leave her behind. The strength she needed to draw enough air into her lungs and to gather her thoughts for speech would be wasted on them. They would no sooner leave her to die than they would run back to Heracles and declare their undying devotion.

Sensing the direction of her wife’s thoughts, Myka spoke reassurances close to the inventor’s ear and steered them over easier paths as they began to ascend rough-hewn steps in the rocky ground. Ahead of them, Christina lingered, her face pinched with indecision as she warred with the instinct to run back and take some of the burden for herself. She had thought that by taking the lead and finding safety it would give her parents and Thomas less to worry about and thus allow them to focus more on their own movements, which it probably had, but now that she hovered on the threshold and they struggled towards her, all she wanted to do was to run back.

What happened next unfolded in the kind of nightmarish slow-motion that had assaulted Christina during the final moments of her battle with Cassandra.

With minds of their own, her feet advanced back into the gaping maw of the cave and as her toe touched down, the ground gave way in places and rose skyward in others. She heard her parents’ voices screaming at Thomas to grab her and reached blindly for something to brace her fall. Everything after that became a blur – more voices yelling and hands attempting to search her out through the pressing of soil and stone.

The ground had come alive and seemed to be trying to swallow her whole. Angered by her audacity – that she would try and retrace her steps when she’d been warned quite clearly to leave and never return – Heracles was making good on his promise to exact revenge for his friend’s death. She felt heat against her skin and began to realise that whatever was pushing up from beneath her came deep from the Earth’s core. _A volcano? He’s making a bloody volcano!?_ Only her head remained above ground now and though smoke and debris obstructed her vision, she saw Thomas’ face hovering closer and felt his hands digging through the dirt.

She didn’t see what attacked him, just knew when the scrabbling stopped and his cry of pain reached her ears, that he was in trouble. It had all gone wrong. So horribly wrong and so fast… because she had been too impatient, too arrogant to think that her help would rip them from danger’s clutches at the very last second. Or too impulsive when fear dominated her thoughts.

Her world went dark just as she thought that the squeezing had stopped and she wondered if she was actually feeling cooler or if it was just her imagination. There was now insufficient oxygen in her pocket underground to keep her awake and she could only hope with her last thought that everyone else had made it out.

* * * * *

Cat shuffled from one foot to the other as she watched her parents limping and her Uncles carrying Christina and Thomas from the wreckage of the cave entrance. She’d whooped when her sister had first appeared above ground – she was so sure at that moment that everything was going to be fine – but then Christina had hesitated and disappeared back into the dark.

What could have made her turn back? Were their moms in danger? Should someone else be helping? She’d almost begun to move when the ground wobbled under her feet. A rush of bodies flew past her, picking their way carefully but efficiently across the uneven ground to see what they could do to help. She watched, torn, as her heart battled with her head.

Freddy appeared beside her, his hand gripping her arm, half in warning, half in reassurance. She found the same soul-deep struggle in his dark eyes for a moment but all he said was, “Stick to the plan.”

“How?” she hissed back. “Ma has the scarab!”

A sly grin grew from the corner of his mouth. He seemed unconcerned with what was happening out of sight and something otherworldly lingered in his expression. Cat was struck by the impression that a presence other than her brother resided behind his eyes. Unlike Alexander’s possession of Heracles though, this phantom was one she had slowly become familiar with and she welcomed more help from this distant ancestor.

Freddy’s eyes flicked to her jacket and, like a scene from the wizarding world, something round and weighty dropped into her pocket. She reached in and pulled the object free. Neither she nor her brother were surprised by what they found when Cat opened the static bag.

Together they clambered part way up the shallow side of the hill that now covered the Warehouse. Careful not to touch the artefact inside, they tipped the bag over and then hurriedly made their way back to the designated ‘safe zone’.

Would Cat’s wish work? Would the scarab do its job before it decided to escape to greener pastures? Would they have a chance of catching it even if their plan did succeed? It was a gamble, but like for so many of the impossible answers to their problems recently, an unexplainable confidence remained fixed in their hearts.

Nothing happened for the longest time; the only movement coming from the frantic efforts to pull people out from the front of the cave. First Pete and Steve appeared with HG and Myka, the two men almost dragging the regents away from danger since neither one was happy about leaving Christina behind. Seeing their parents, Fredrick and Cat abandoned their ineffective vigil and joined their uncles’ efforts to stop the couple from leaping back into the fray.

The fifteen-year-old felt the sting of tears the moment her eyes landed on the inventor’s stricken face and she wrapped her arms around her mother’s middle before she could bring herself to venture a look back at where her sister remained.

In the presence of her other children, the younger regent snapped out of her terrified thoughts enough for her to remember what she was supposed to do once they were outside. Myka reached for her pocket and immediately began to panic when she found it empty.

Catherine explained, in a rapid spray of words, what she and Freddy had done with the artefact that mysteriously landed in her possession, and then just as frantically added, “But nothing’s happening!”

HG, who still saw stars from the injury to her head, had fallen into a semi-catatonic daze as she watched with glazed eyes the movement of squaddies. They pulled Thomas’ bloodied body from the wreckage and then a limp and dirt-encrusted Christina. She would never get used to this numb floating sensation that gripped her any time one of her children diced with death. No matter how many times it happened – and it seemed to her that it happened an awful lot – she never quite understood how the world could feel like it was falling apart around her while her body continued to function as if she were a banshee at the helm of a warship.

Cat’s words registered in her head at the same time that she reached the diggers and their treasure. Had they delayed for no good reason? Had the Warehouse taken her daughter from her again? _Cynane, we did your bidding. Now do your part!_ she thought viciously.

The answering plea hit all of the Wells-Bering family simultaneously. A simple, ‘ _Patience, my children,’_ danced through each of them in turn before the champion’s hacking cough punctuated the air, followed by a rumbling baritone from below ground.

As Myka and Helena helped medics to turn their eldest onto her side and made room for a stretcher and more life-saving equipment, they couldn’t help allowing their attention to drift to the outcrop where their younger two children had left their last hope.

Ever the sceptic, Myka held her breath as she waited for an explosion of ferrets and then for the heir to appear in their midst, ready to rid himself of their interference once and for all. Artie would scoff at their antics if he were there; to believe that something as fickle, as unreliable an artefact as the Wishing Kettle was – that this should be the tool they turned to when faced with certain annihilation? He would have chewed them all out for even suggesting it.

But no fountain of rodents rained down upon them and, assuming that Heracles continued to stalk the aisles of the Warehouse in a gleeful rage of triumph, he did not appear before them with murderous intent. The moment everyone cleared the wreckage of rock, the tremors abruptly stopped their assault on the people of the island and isolated themselves to the outcrop that covered the entrance to the Warehouse.

For those who vaguely knew what was supposed to happen next, they expected fireworks, they expected a grand display of noise, some visual representation of their struggle against evil finally reaching its intended climax; even just a cursory nod towards tradition with a performance worthy of the years of toil dedicated to meeting this end, but before their eyes, in little more than a quiet pop and a blink, the mound disappeared and the tiny, beetle-like artefact which sat on top hit the ground with an inaudible thud before it buried itself in the dirt – as scarabs were wont to.

An expulsion of breath leaked from the majority of those who felt relief at the sight of the threat disappearing. An anti-climax though it might have been, and though pertinent questions remained, it was clear to all that _this_ battle was over. They’d won and it felt good to acknowledge the imminent and much needed chance to rest and recuperate.

HG refused her own stretcher but leant willingly against her wife as they followed the medics towards the infirmary, but Christina didn’t even bother protesting the assistance as she covered her eyes in the vain hope that no one would notice her gathering tears. She could attribute them to guilt, relief or a dozen other mixed emotions, but it was sufficient to say that her mind and body were simply overwhelmed. Exhaustion threatened to claim her and she welcomed its suffocating hold.

Two relatively unscathed squad members were chosen to stay on watch as everyone else marched listlessly in the same general direction. An untouchable air clouded the regents and only Fredrick and Catherine braved their parents’ close proximity. They followed close behind, their gazes tinged with worry, but eventually felt the oppressive silence enough to begin a whispered conversation.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Freddy whispered to his younger sister as they passed into the courtyard of the complex.

He was thinking back to a brief moment outside the Warehouse when he’d been filled with certainty that Cat would have the scarab in her pocket, despite the fact that their Mama had carried it to the surface. Those comforting moments of clarity had all but gone now, but the memory sat clear inside his head and he longed to know that he wasn’t the only one – he was sure that they’d all been connected somehow, for a short time.

“Cynane,” Catherine whispered back confidently. “It’s why our moms were so willing to let him cut Chrissie; as he got stronger, so did we, and getting rid of Alexander in that way tied us all together. Binding Chrissie to the Warehouse gave Cynane more power over us. Only _she_ wasn’t trying to kill us.”

An eyebrow danced across Freddy’s forehead as he stared at the younger teen in surprise. “And you know this how?”

A cheeky look hit the young man in turn. “Isn’t it obvious?” she smirked.

He chuckled and shook his head, not entirely sure that he agreed with her assessment, but not entirely able to dismiss the possibility either. Something _had_ taken hold of his family. Something small in the backs of their minds, but strong and determined, and wherever that help came from, whatever it was, he was grateful for it.

* * * * *

A veil of shock and worry hovered like an oppressive blanket over the Wells-Bering family for many hours after the Warehouse’s disappearance. Though Helena stayed in the infirmary, in a bed of her own for the first twenty-four hours – the doctor having diagnosed a severe concussion – she and Myka kept their uncomfortable sleeping positions in chairs by Christina’s bed even after the first day. Fredrick and Catherine were ordered to return to their more suitable sleeping places through the night, but neither mother complained of their presence during the day. There was comfort in knowing where all of their children were at the quick turn of a head.

Not one of them could bring themselves to believe that the battle was really over. Even Catherine, whose epiphany in the Warehouse had allowed her the strength of will to wish their victory into a reality, could not set her own mind at rest. Yes, the threat appeared to be vanquished, and yes, Heracles was trapped in a prison of his own making, but for how long? The scarab had not reappeared from its burrow and no one could really be sure if indeed it was still on the island. What if it washed up on some distant shore and the heir was released – like a genie from a lamp? There were no qualms about how far Heracles would go this time to seek his revenge. With no tempering force behind his thoughts, he would wreak havoc, and then what would become of their family?

Thomas, it turned out, had fallen between the weight of a boulder landing on him and a stalagmite driving out of the ground and through his right leg. He was a mess of cuts, bruises and now numerous machines, and when Christina had woken up long enough to take in her surroundings, she’d twisted around to look for him only to cry herself back to sleep.

Other casualties were blessedly low. Claudia’s goo-drone had caused no lingering effects and any injuries sustained from the struggle against the zombie army were quickly dealt with. One or two more severe injuries had required casts and plenty of bed-rest was ordered, but the majority of the supporting squads were already back on their feet, helping the ex-caretaker to reclaim stability.

A week passed before Christina could be persuaded to leave her bed. Thomas had woken and her parents left them alone long enough to talk. He couldn’t feel his legs yet and there was discussion about whether or not he would ever walk again, but he told his girlfriend in no uncertain terms that he didn’t blame her and refused to let her blame herself.

So, for the first time since Heracles’ defeat, all five of them wandered out beyond the covering of buildings and trees to where the Warehouse had last stood. No signs of disturbance had been reported by the squads on patrol and for the likes of Pete, who buzzed with positive vibes, planning a victory party was the only important thing left to do.

That intangible, otherworldly ‘voice’ tugged at Myka and Helena’s family though and pulled them from their musings to visit this place once more. It formed a compulsion so insistent that they had little choice but to follow it.

“Do you think Claudia _will_ place a monument here?” Cat asked once they were all gathered.

In front of them, a large patch of dark earth scarred the plain of coarse grass that covered most of the island. For now, it was a stark reminder of everything that had happened and of sacrifices made, but eventually, life would consume this place again, erasing all obvious evidence of the struggles which had dominated this family’s life.

Myka stood behind her wife, her arms wrapped securely around Helena’s middle while her head almost rested on one shoulder. “I expect so. Claudia will have started designing already I bet. She’ll probably ask for your help in building it, hun,” she added and squeezed the inventor lovingly.

HG ‘hmm-ed’ in acknowledgement, but her mind was far away. She thought back to the moment in her grandparents’ house in London, when she’d known that Myka was going to die and she’d vowed to shoulder any burden to give the woman she loved a second chance at life. That was the night she’d become pregnant with Christina. The night that, for her at least, marked the beginning of their destined path. Their life together was full of joy; a symphony of love, family and adventure, but the burden had been there too, constant and at times too painful to bear. Could she finally let go of that weight?

She responded to her wife’s tighter embrace by reaching for her hands and turning her head into a kiss that fell against her temple. The intimate touch sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine and she smiled in response. Their hands playfully twisted and brushed together, enjoying the loving exploration and drawing a much-needed calm to their thoughts.

Caught up in a world of their own, they were only vaguely aware that their children had begun a halting conversation about the future of the artefacts still out in the world, but they felt no real need in that moment to add their opinions. Some of the tension from the last couple of weeks was beginning to fade and there was no time like the present to let their bodies bask in their ability to stay close without the threat of danger constantly pulling them apart. As far as they were concerned, their involvement with the Warehouse would end the second Heracles was no longer a threat to their safety and happiness. It was with unspoken agreement that they decided they’d earned their retirement. If there was still work to be done, they would leave it to the young ones… for the most part.

Any sounds of protest from their children were ignored – they were used to being told that their cuddling and smooching was unappreciated – but when a cry of surprise, almost panic rose from the trio, the regents were once again torn from their musings to engage whatever disaster was about to ensue.

It wasn’t another villain that demanded their attention though and the couple stood, agog, as the cause for alarm erupted from _them._

Where their hands were entangled, fingers still playing gently, an all too familiar warmth grew from their wedding rings and from where the metal touched, strands of green and gold flowed.

“Why are they doing that?” Freddy wondered in amazement. He’d heard tales about how his parents managed to find each other so easily on the odd occasion that they were apart and in need of each other, but to see such a display himself, he couldn’t help feeling a bit of anxiety mixed with his wonder.

“I don’t know,” Myka whispered. She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice, but the energy that poured outward seemed to fill her from the inside too. Helena was all around her, running through her, their connection stronger than it had ever been. She didn’t need to look at her wife’s expression to know that the inventor felt the same.

“Look,” HG exclaimed with an equally hushed tone. She pointed with the hand that wasn’t joined with Myka’s and drew everyone’s attention to a spot on the scarred ground only a few feet away.

The strands first sank into the earth and then shot up, like a determined sapling, spiralling in a helical dance until they reached a height approximate to the family’s. Fearing that the rings had betrayed them, that Heracles would rise from the midst of the lightshow, HG and Myka stepped forwards, instinctively pushing their children behind them.

It was not Heracles’ shape that took form in front of them though. The body was shorter and distinctly female. As the light faded into a soft glow, a collective gasp cut through the air.

“You!” Helena cried. She wasn’t sure whether it was fear, anger or excitement that added volume to her voice, but her eyes darkened either way as she gazed on her ancestor.

Myka glanced between her wife and this ancient figure. It didn’t seem to matter that she and Helena were no longer holding hands – their hold having dropped when they reacted to the yelps of surprise – Cynane continued to stand before them, an indulgent smile brightening her features. “You helped us,” she said softly and immediately regretted the obviousness of her statement. A blush grabbed her cheeks and a rueful smile grew from the corner of her mouth.

“Yes, child.” Cynane’s dark eyes journeyed over all of them leisurely. She seemed to be absorbing every line and shadow of their faces, as if preparing to say goodbye to someone dear to her. “You have walked a long and winding road and suffered much. It was the least I could do.”

Christina stepped tentatively closer and looked the woman over. After two thousand years, the family resemblance had wandered, but there was still something, a spark that reminded her of her Victorian mother and her siblings. “Why are you just showing yourself now? Why didn’t you help us earlier?”

“I could not interfere without tipping my hand. As wonderful as Miss Donovan was in her role, I feared that giving her too much information would hasten my nephew’s efforts. You were not ready until now.” She looked as if she wanted to reach out to comfort the young woman whose eyes held a hint of betrayal, but she held her place and turned back to the regents. “Besides, until you released me, I could not leave the Warehouse. My influence was limited to what I could do for you once you were all inside. As for why I am showing myself now: I wanted to put your minds at rest.”

Freddy sucked in a breath. “Heracles is gone? For good?”

“Yes,” Cynane confirmed. “Your collective instincts were sound. He can no more escape his prison than… oh what is that charming phrase?”

“Than pigs might fly?” Cat ventured earning her a crooked smile.

“Than swine might take wing and make playthings of the clouds,” the ancient woman agreed. “You have all more than earned your wings however,” she added with a twinkle.

“Figuratively speaking?” HG queried with a frown.

Cynane chuckled to herself and winked. “I hope to find out very soon.”

“You say he can’t escape,” Christina prodded further. “Will he age in there? What if someone finds that artefact?” There was a hint of panic in her tone, like at that very moment someone, somewhere, was plotting to dig up the scarab and force it to regurgitate its contents.

“Fear not, he will age and his corpse, regrettably, will lie in the tomb he now calls home. There will be distractions enough for his lifetime, but the means by which you walked into… Limbo… cannot work from the inside. Equally, there is nothing out here that could penetrate the artefact’s shell. He is truly gone from your lives.” Cynane smiled warmly as a collective relaxing of shoulders consumed the small family.

“So, this _is_ the end?” Myka asked, sensing that whatever magic had allowed this meeting, it would soon fade.

Still bathed in a glow of sparkling green and gold, the first caretaker and keeper of the Warehouse spread her arms slightly to both sides and shrugged lightly. “It’s an end…” she conceded gently, “but it is a beginning too.”

As the ancient figure faded from their vision and their lives, Helena once more pulled her wife closer and, feeling an old mischief creep up on her, tipped Myka back to lay a passionate kiss against her lips. The complaints that followed, both from their offspring and from the brunette’s half-hearted warnings about old age and fragile backs, were music to her ears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!
> 
> I'm not sure that I achieved my promise of a happy ending, but I think I managed a hopeful one at least. That reflects my outlook on life at the moment I think. (I hope I tied up all the loose ends that needed tying!)
> 
> If I had known how long this story would be or how many years it would take to write, I'm not sure I would have even started it. I'm glad that I don't have the power of foresight; this was a wonderful and trying journey, made only sweeter by everyone who has followed and supported its development.
> 
> So, all that's left to say is thank you. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> On with the show...


End file.
